Of Fur and Flame Book One: Two Daughters
by Killy-S
Summary: At the Mountain fortress of Salamandastron mother-to-be Peony Linwood anxiously awaits word from her husband Long Patrol Captain Tutsan Linwood. Meanwhile out in the woodlands an ambitious young fox longs to become a great warlord feared by all.
1. Chapter 1: Long Patrols and Leverets

**Authors Note:**

Hello all, Killy here.

This is an older fic that Highwing so graciously edited for me way back. It is still a work in progress, so I'm posting it up in the hopes it will get me back into gear and finishing the darn thing. Enjoy.

**Prologue **

_Extract of a personal letter from Peony Linwood of Salamandastron to her sister Betony Samara of Redwall Abbey:_

My dearest sister,

It seems so long since my last correspondence, and I do hope you will forgive me. Much has happened since your last visit this past Spring. The chaps are the same as always; they change about as fast as this blooming great rock we live in. As for me and Tutsan, the trials and joys of married life seem unending. Tutsan was promoted shortly after you left to return to the Abbey. He claims it was unexpected, as if there is a modest bone in the fibber's body. You should see the bounder puff up the instant anybeast refers to him as Captain Tutsan Linwood. There will be no living with him now, let me tell you dear sister ... not that I could say I'm exactly living with my husband at the moment. Married two seasons, and Tut has been off and on Patroling for the most of it. I do wish he would return home soon as our little duo will become a trio. Mother was none too impressed, let me tell you! However, poor Tutsan didn't know we were expecting when he left the mountain. All manner of bird and runner have scouted the area for him trying to pass along the message to the father-to-be. Knowing my Tutsan, he's probably off at that Abbey of yours. Should that be the case, do tell him to come home.

So, my beloved soon-to-be-auntie Bet, I must bid you a pleasant season and await you letter.

Love for all,

Peony.

**Chapter one **

**Long Patrols and Leverets **

The officer's mess of Salamandastron was crowded with commanders who would be in charge of patrols scheduled to leave the mountain within the season. There was hardly room enough to breath, let alone move. Windows and doors had been opened to aid air circulation, though this did little to help. The seated hares fanned themselves with their parchment scrolls. Their uniforms were loosened and partially unbuttoned; some had removed their jackets altogether, draping them over the backs of their chairs. Not even the strictest officer was going comment on the way formalities were quietly forgotten. The only space not packed to the brim was a wall at the back where a large map hung.

Colonel Hardan paced under the map, wooden pointer in one paw and a tankard of cold mountain ale in the other. Hardan was an older hare who probably could have retired seasons ago. His fur was silvery grey, flecks of the original sandy colour throughout the only true indicator of age on the hearty creature. He tapped the pointer against the stone wall to get the attention of his chattering fellow hares.

"Could I have your h'attention if you don't mind? If you would be so kind as to turn your blinkin' peepers this way we can get this lot sorted out before tea time, wot wot. At the last meeting, as I hope most of you jolly well remember, we agreed on twoscore runs of patrols for the Autumn and Winter seasons."

He raised the wooden pointer, gesturing to each area on the map as he spoke. "The Autumn will start off with five patrols going north. For those of you making this route, kindly remember to report to the northern post before continuing." He tapped the spot on the map for emphasis.

"Ten or so will be going inland, fanning out as you go, before returning home. I do jolly well hope not to find all ten patrols arriving at Redwall Abbey unannounced. Especially when your patrol is supposed to be heading south, wot. Not that that has ever happened to one of our chaps, has it, Lieutenant Aubrey?"

He pointed the stick towards the hare in question. Aubrey looked around innocently, pretending not to have heard the officer's comment. This caused his fellow younger officers to smile and stifle laughs as the older hares glared sternly at any who found the antics of Lieutenant Aubrey Linwood amusing.

Returning to the map, Hardan continued, "Now, the rest of you will be patrolling our bally shore lines."

The elderly hare paused, leaning on the pointer and taking a quick drink of the ale before continuing his address. "Naturally, the chaps responsible for organizing patrols took careful consideration of all your requests." A dark grin appeared on his grizzled features as he went on. "And as always, me being the ole bounder I am, I tossed the blinking lot out the window and made up the schedule meself."

A slew of comical moans and grumbles rose from the assembled creatures.

"What a 'orrible 'are the Colonel is."

"I say, Sah, let's toss him out the bally window."

"'Tis tyranny, sah! Bloomin' tyranny!"

The jesting came to an abrupt halt as a figure attempted to quietly slip into the room unnoticed. Badger Lady Oranna was still a young creature, not even full grown, yet she carried many of the responsibilities of adulthood. Blushing deeply behind her stripes, she watched as all hares present hastily fixed their uniforms and stood to attention.

"Er, sorry I'm late," she said, waving her paws frantically in a gesture for the hares to stay seated.

Hardan set his tankard aside, trying to hide a disapproving look. "Marm, when a meeting of Long Patrol officers is called, it's usually expected that the ruler of Salamandastron is present…"

Oranna cut him off nervously, watching as all eyes set upon her again. "I'm terribly sorry, Colonel Hardan. I lost track of time."

Captain Bloomberry, a charming young haremaid, interjected before the Colonel or any other hare could say another word. She passed a quick smile to Oranna. "No matter, the Colonel was just getting started. Sorry to say, marm, but we haven't been on our best behaviours. Good thing the young rankers aren't about; imagine what they would think to see us not in proper uniform and joking about on official business, wot? No matter - come sit by me. Come along now, Hardan, we don't want to melt away in here."

Oranna sighed with relief and sat next to the kindly Captain, waiting for Hardan to continue. The Colonel shook his head, having forgotten what he had wanted to say. He stroked his whiskers thoughtfully, trying to recall the speech he had prepared but to no avail. "Oh, dash it, the schedules are written down for you." He nodded to two awaiting Corporals carrying stacks of parchment to distribute. They quickly passed the schedules around to all and were dismissed. "Any questions before we dismiss?"

"Why is Tutsan's wife in for a Fall Patrol with Major Bernie? You know she can't make it?" Captain Bloomberry piped up.

Major Bernard Mullins was a stout hare quickly approaching his middle-aged seasons. Everything from the finely-polished monocle to the clean crisp rose coloured uniform reflected the old fashioned mannerisms of the Long Patrol. He turned in his seat to the hare that had lifted his paw to speak. "Whatever are you getting on with, Captain Bloomberry?" He heavily pronounced her name showing his ever growing distain for the habit others had for shortening his.

Captain Bloomberry held back a giggle. "Peony's having a baby. You know that, Major. Or did you bally well think she was just getting fat?"

The Major refrained from commenting on that in particular but went on to say, "Surely by the fall she should be back in top notch condition wot. I don't see what your jolly well worried about. I'm not losing my best tracker."

Hardan pulled his spectacles from the breast pocket of his tunic, studying the parchment carefully. "Oh dear, it appears I've made some mistake. Fancy that, wot. Well, Bernie, I'm afraid you will be losing your tracker. New maternity leave regulations, don'tcha know. I'll just change Peony's assignment and give it to one of our junior trackers; they could do with a little action. T'will do them a bit of good. Capital idea, I think."

There were murmurs of agreement but the Major was not satisfied.

"I don't want some wet-behind-the-ears leveret tracking in a full blown Fall patrol north. The young rip will no doubt go bounding off and get 'imself lost, then have the rest of us tracking to find 'im."

The Colonel raised one brow, a disapproving look in his sharp eyes. "Now Major, there is nothing I can do. If you want to take the matter further, I suggest you argue it with Captain Tutsan and Peony. However, I would much rather hear you extend your best wishes to them. Now then, you're all dismissed. Any questions can be asked after tea, 'cos I'm jolly well famished."

The hares gladly excused themselves from the heat of the officer's mess. The hares saluted quickly to Lady Oranna and made their way to the main mess hall, the young badger close behind.

There was no such thing as a quiet snack at Salamandastron. Everything from early breakfast to late supper was a carefully orchestrated madness. Oranna had often enjoyed this time chatting away with hares her own age or visiting sea otters, but since the start of spring, adulthood seemed to be drawing closer and closer with every breath. Just as Oranna was about to oversee a scone scoffing contest, the looming figure of her mother Elmerlyn ambled towards her.

"Colonel Hardan tells me you were late for the meeting this afternoon," she said, using a tone of voice only a badger mother could.

"I lost track of time … and besides, you weren't there either," Oranna snapped back quickly.

Pulling her daughter aside, Elmerlyn herded the young badger ruler towards the officers' table while lecturing her. "Oranna, whatever shall I do with you? It's time you go to these engagements by yourself; I can't be around to hold your paw forever. You need to start taking on the responsibilities of Lady of Salamandastron. If your father was here now ..."

Oranna cut her off quickly, scowling. "Well, he isn't here. I don't care about boring meetings. I don't have much of a say in things anyway. All I have to do is let them salute me and leave the rest to Colonel Hardan. We don't even really need a Badger Lady."

Elmerlyn became outraged at this statement, wagging her paw before the juvenile badger's face. "These hares are all prepared to lay down their lives for you, and you don't have the decency to so much as arrive to a meeting on time? Oranna the Lazy, they ought to title you!"

Oranna said nothing, taking her seat and pushing the chair arms into the table with such force it caused the cups and platters to totter and rattle. The officer hares immediately grabbed hold to steady the table lest the food be spilled. "Steady on there, ol' Gel! Don't want to spoil the tuck."

The light-hearted comment received nothing from the now-sulking Badger. Elmerlyn sighed and decided to leave her daughter be for now. There was no need to embarrass her by criticizing her actions in front of the senior officers of the Long Patrol. Oranna seemed to be doing a good job of that without her mother's help.


	2. Chapter 2: To Become A Warlord

**Chapter two**

**To Become A Warlord **

Vaniska was a young fox with grand ambitions. Having left home at a young age, Vaniska set out to find his fame and fortune. With no trade or skills to speak of, he fell back on his only talent: bullying. It was in this manner that he formed a small band of followers. These cronies of his were all young creatures who felt as though their elders were not giving them a fair share of what the entire world had to offer. Mostly foxes like Vaniska, their gang robbed and vandalized small farms and settlements in the southern regions of Mossflower. They were not considered a real threat to those living in the area, more a great annoyance. Even though the band was quite content at the moment, their leader Vaniska was not. He wanted more than the food and trinkets they lifted. He wanted to go down in history as the greatest warlord of all time, not to be forgotten as just another robber fox.

The answer to his dilemma came as he sat by the fire when the band made camp. He gazed into the flickering flames, watching them devour the twigs and branches until only cinders remained. It was then the fox realized the greatest tool he could have would never be a sword; it would be his flint and tinderbox. It was at that moment Vaniska took on a title that in his mind would cause all creatures to tremble. The Arson, how devious it sounded rolling off the tongue. Having given the idea of titles a great deal of thought Vaniska was pleased with his final choice. Somehow Vaniska the fire starter, or Vaniska the great burning fox didn't sound quite sophisticated enough for an aspiring warlord.

With a smile on his face and a plot in his head, Vaniska brought his band to a small farming community. Making camp in the trees only a short ways off he sent Wayta, his second in command, on a mission to deliver his terms to the village and return with their answer. The wheeze from Wayta's lungs announced his arrival to Vaniska. Lifting the flap of his small tent, he bid Wayta to enter.

"You have their answer then?" he asked, trying to hold back his delight. He thought his plan so perfectly villainous, surely the villagers were trembling in fear of him.

"They didn't accept, Chief," Wayta said nervously.

"What! What do you mean? You told them exactly what I told you to, didn't you? Why didn't they accept? Don't they know who I am?" Vaniska stomped a circle in the tent, his rant turning to angry mutters as Wayta continued.

"They think you're bluffing, sir. They said you wouldn't burn the village down and you were only trying to take advantage of poor, hard working creatures. They said they would send the otter tribe after you if you visited again." The young fox inched towards the exit, not wanting to make the leader angry.

Vaniska stopped his pacing and ranting, taking a deep breath and thinking the situation though. Inexperienced and headstrong, the fox tried to be cunning but wasn't altogether clever. Yet at moments his memory and attention to detail surprised even him.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute. They're going to send otters out after me?" A smile came over his face. "Most otters are away at the seaside this time of year, some gathering or jamboree of sorts. Their precious otter tribe won't be home for a while yet. Who's bluffing now?"

Wayta stood speechless, unsure if he was supposed to reply to the question or not. "So what are we going to do?"

Vaniska smirked wickedly. "We burn them as promised. If they didn't give us the tribute we asked for we'll burn the whole lot to the ground tomorrow evening while they sleep."

Wayta nodded, than excused himself from the tent. Rackam, one of the few weasels in the small band, stopped him.

"So what's the chief hollering and yelling about now?" he asked, nodding his head towards the tent.

"The village turned down his offer. So they will burn as promised," Wayta replied matter-of-factly.

"Ye mean Vaniska is actually going through with it?" The young weasel was surprised, to say the least.

"Aye, and knowing Vaniska's current mood he'll want no survivors, no one left to tell the story." With that, Wayta moved to walk on but Rackam stopped him again.

"Hold on. If no one lives to tell the tale, 'ow's anybeast gonna know we did it?"

"Well, I guess Vaniska will leave a note or something."

"That makes no sense, mate. We're going to burn the lot of 'em and leave a little note saying, "Look at this, we did it, Sincerely, Vaniska." What Warlord does something like that eh? "

"But it would be like a calling card."

"A calling card is something you do over and over again and creatures know it was you that did it. So we'd have to burn towns up and down the country before we could call it a calling card. Besides, they need to know who it is that is leaving the calling card in order to know who did it. And if there're no creatures left to tell the story, then there's no way to know who's calling card is being left by who because we'll still be unknown."

"You isn't making any sense there, Rackam," Wayta said and went on his way.

"We're following a fool," the weasel muttered under his breath.


	3. Chapter 3: Inquiries

**Chapter three **

**Inquiries **

Peony knocked lightly on the officers' mess door, finding it closed shut. Captain Bloomberry answered quietly, pulling back the door and poking her head out. It was as though she anticipated finding a prankster on the other side.

Seeing her long time friend Peony smiled brightly, as she was there to discus Patrol business, she used the other hare's full title. "Oh, Hello, Captain Bloomberry. Is Colonel Hardan or Major Bernie about?"

The young Captain smiled, welcoming Peony inside. "Come on in tubby, the Colonel is taking an early evening nap in his armchair but I'm sure he'll wake up for a pretty thing like yourself. He won't bally well budge for an ugly mug like me. "

As the two female hares approached the sleeping Colonel, he spoke without opening an eye. "Will you tell that chatterbox with fur to put a flippin' cork in it, wot? Poor tired officer's trying to nap, no rest for the blinking weary."

Bloomberry laughed. "Oh, get up, old lad. Two charming ladies to see you and you won't even lift an eyelid, 'tis a pity, sah."

The Colonel opened one eye and winked at Peony. "Oh, I'll wake up for this fine young creature but for you, Bloom, I must have been off my blinkin' head when I allowed you to become an officer. If I only knew then I had to deal with old funny face day in and day out, wot wot."

Bloomberry crossed her paws, looking rather hurt, ears drooping. "Humpf! And here I thought I was your favourite."

Peony stifled a giggle. "Now now, Bloomberry. Lads only make fun of the haremaids they fancy. So the old Colonel must fancy you a great deal, wot." Bloomberry fluttered her eyelashes foolishly, as haremaidens are known to do. Then with a soft laugh, jumped from the playful kick the Colonel aimed at her.

Peony continued, "I heard the new patrol listings were to come out and I wanted to make sure everything was in order, considering I won't be going … I hope Bernie isn't too upset."

The old Colonel sat upright in his armchair, a warm paternal smile on his battered features. "And what matter if he is, Marm? We all understand that the family is far more important for you then roaming about. You have a young 'un to raise soon enough. No time to be traipsing about the countryside. Best to put the perilous days behind and focus on rearing us several more fine Linwood chappies to fill out the ranks, eh wot? "

Peony placed one paw on her protruding stomach. "Sah, I do plan on returning to service once the child is born. My mother and the hares in the nursery are more than willing to assist in raising the leveret. Please, don't expect me to turn from a respected warrior to a Goodwife in the space of a season."

Hardan knew better then to speak more on the matter. He had heard the arguments between Peony and her mother in regards to raising the child. A harewife starting a family was quietly expected to give up Long Patrol life for the younger and unmarried females. However, times were quickly changing as more and more females left the rearing of leverets to relations and returned to patrolling and to the battlefield at will.

Bloomsberry was also a little upset and offended by her senior's suggestions. "Well, my mother continued patrolling after having me and my brothers," she said proudly.

"Aye, and look how you turned out," Hardan jested. "Let's worry about these matters as they unfold for now. Let's just leave it be, shall we?"

Peony nodded. "As you wish, Sah. I'll save it for another day. Permission to excuse myself?"

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. Peony, do as you wish. And Bloom m'gel, let me finish my nap in peace this time."

The two females exited in relative silence until well away from the mess.

"Can you imagine even suggesting that you should give up patrolling, Peony?" Bloomberry said.

"Well, he isn't the only one who brought it up. Mother hasn't stopped carrying on about it. Frankly I tell you, if Tutsan says one blinkin' word on that matter, I'll have his throat."

"A little violent there, old gel. I wouldn't go that far."

"Forgive me, Bloomberry, I can't help it. This season has taken the best of me and replaced it with ... well, I don't know what." She sighed softly until she approached the room she and Tutsan shared. "Perhaps I will follow the Colonel's example and take a little nap. Sleep might wipe away all worries."

Bloomsberry nodded. "sleep well then."


	4. Chapter 4: Ashes to Ashes

**Chapter Four **

**Ashes to ashes **

The five hares that made up Captain Tutsan's Long Patrol, had made their nightly camp nestled under the shelter of several sturdy oak trees. The ground was covered in short alders and soft mosses that afforded them a comfortable place to sleep. A short windstorm from two days back had knocked down old dead branches from the trees above, scattering fire wood close to paw. The Great South Stream was also easily accessed from the site providing fresh water, and a place to cool paws before starting the long march home. It was a place of tranquil beauty, Tutsan considered it a real treat after past nights sleeping on rockier terrain.

Captain Tutsan awoke before his usual early hour. He could hear the whispers of some creature trying to wake him without disturbing the rest of the patrol. As he slowly came to, the voice became clearer and he soon recognized it as that of the young galloper Levkin.

"Excuse me, sah, but there's a situation I think you should see to. Please wake up, sah, this is very important." The young creature tapped his officer's shoulder, trying frantically to rouse him.

Tutsan slowly rolled to his side, wiping his eyes clear of sleep and studying the worried look on the young creature's face. "What seems to be the trouble, laddie buck?" he whispered back.

The young galloper gestured out towards the tree fringe, quickly explaining, "It was coming from back there … I seen it. I heard, something, but I didn't know what was going on. I tried to wake you, sah, but I think I was too late … Oh, sah, don't be angry at me, I got a bit scared by it all, you know how I don't like being on watch but I tried my best, sah ... "

The ramblings of the young creature only confused Tutsan further. "Levkin, nobeast is angry with you, but would you please clearly explain wot's the matter?"

Turning his head in the direction the galloper pointed, Tutsan immediately spotted the problem.

Great billows of smoke rose like monstrous clouds past the trees, the scent of the smoke and soot drifting towards the small Long Patrol camp.

"Hmmm, I see, Levkin that does present a bit of a problem wot. Wake the others on the double. We'll have to investigate."

The young hare nodded and set about waking the camp with his Captain.

"Alright, Chaps, up you come, there's an emergency that needs attending."

In what felt like an instant the other three hares of the patrol were up and ready for action. Wasting no time, Tutsan gave his orders.

"Lieutenant Brea, you come up ahead with me. Mayweed, blade at the ready and follow shortly after on my command. Corporal Blodwen, I want you to scoot ahead of me and Brea and give us a jolly ole warning call if ye see any foebeasts doddling about."

"What about me?" piped up Levkin.

"You, lad, will guard the camp and be ready to sound the alarm should any danger be apaw." The Captain ordered drawing his rapier in preparation to go.

"But, Sah, I want to go with you lot. t'aint bally fair that I 'ave to stay put while you lot have all the blooming adventures." The young hare complained again.

Tutsan always pawpicked the hares he patrolled with whenever given the chance. This was Levkin's very first Long Patrol, and the Captian had seen great potential in the young galloper. However once out earshot of his Sergeant, Levkin had proved to be more difficult then anticipated. Tutsan had hoped that a few early morning watch duties or other less desirable chores like pot scrubbing would teach the galloper a lesson. If Levkin ever hoped to get anywhere in The Long Patrol he would have to learn to respect his superiors orders. Setting his rapier back to his belt, the Captain's usually cheery features melted away. Striding within reach of the young hare he barked.

"Levkin, never question m'orders! You will be staying here bucko, matter closed. Count your lucky stars laddie buck that I'm letting ye stay on to guard the camp and not putting ye on a fizzer for yer cheek. One more little mutinous uttering our of ye young sah, and it's quick march all the way back to Salamandastron to cool yer paws in the flippin' guardhouse."

The young runner quivered where he stood. He straightened his back and his ears shot upright. "Yes sah! Understood Sah!"

"Good," turning with wink to the rest of his patrol he nodded to Blodwen to go on ahead. "Right ho, move lively but quietly, save the Eulalaia's and battle cries for later. We don't want any foebeast to know we're here if they don't already."

Moving swiftly, the four hares made their way towards the site of the fire. Approaching the scene, they had to move low, avoiding the smoke and ash.

Tutsan crept along with Brea, blade at the ready. "Well, this is certainly a mess, eh wot?"

"Yes, sah, I can hardly breath! I can't hear any creature about, vermin or otherwise."

Blodwen returned from her expedition grim-faced. "It was a village. Still ablaze, but dying down. There's a well a bit up from this position. Could organize a jolly ole bucket brigade and try to douse the flames. We may be able to salvage what's left. Don't want the whole blinkin' woodlands to catch fire."

Nodding, Tutsan set his hares to work finding the well and any buckets or vessels that might be used to snuff out the flames.

"Cover your noses and mouths so you don't inhale the blasted smoke," he called out, taking his handkerchief and protecting his face as best he could.

Lieutenant Brea, a sturdy and muscular hare, began tossing dirt on the smoldering embers, smothering the smaller flames completely. A water bucket line worked well into the afternoon until the last of the six structures ceased burning.

It was then that the sad tale of the creatures living here came to life.

Blodwen wiped her brow, inspecting the village grounds and remarking quietly to Tutsan, "It's a good thing that Levkin wasn't with us. No creature deserves to see such death and destruction."

"And no creature deserves to suffer this way, either," Tutsan added, discovering the charred remains of what once had been a field mouse. "The least we can do for them is give 'em a proper burial, wot?"

Using shovels salvaged from the fire-ravaged village, the hares began digging resting spots for the residents of the farming community. It was hard work trying to carefully place the blackened and reeking bodies into their graves. Old creatures - their ash-covered faces fixed in sleep - had suffocated from the smoke. Then there were the horrible sights of the younger creatures, many discovered huddled by windows or doors. Iron rods from fences and farm equipment had been used to block off escape. Mayweed excused herself from the burials, her face stained with tears. Going into what had been a field, she knelt down, trying not to let her comrades hear her sobs. The sight of so many dead was far too much for the haremaid to take in.

Tutsan watched the hare leave her duties and decided to console her. He had never been very good with grief counseling or providing helpful words. However, as commander of a patrol, the duty fell upon him to do so, particularly when it involved one of his hares leaving her duties.

"There there, young miss. We're all upset, you know that, but we must keep a stiff upper lip and continue on, eh."

"No, sah, I haven't seen as much action as you or the others, but I have seen death, I have taken the lives of vermin and watched as my comrades fell. But I have never seen anything as devastating and as horrifying as this. They never even stood a chance Sah. I need a moment alone if I may, sah. I don't think I can stand." She sobbed again, wiping her eyes.

Tutsan placed a caring paw on her shoulder and was about to leave her when he heard a faint cry. It wasn't the sobs of Mayweed - far too shrill. "Hush a moment, May."

The haremaid looked up, trying to tidy herself. "Yes, I know, sah, this isn't the proper behavior of a hare ... " She continued chiding herself when Tutsan hushed her again.

"No no no - I hear something. Something alive."


	5. Chapter 5: A Discovery

**Authors note:**

**Hello again,**

**Because Myrkin has been so kind in writing responses to all of my chapters thus far, I've decided to post chapter 5 a little early as a thank you. **

**Of course a big thank you to everyone who have taken the time to read this little fic. **

**Killy**

**Chapter five **

**A Discovery **

Following the direction of the voice, Tutsan came upon the prone body of a harewife. She resembled his own wife Peony quite closely, which caused the Captain to pause in his tracks. What had he been thinking, leaving his newly wed wife behind so soon after their wedding? Colonel Harden had given him the option of remaining with his beloved Peony. The elder hare had even gone so far as to privately suggest to Tutsan that the pair should take a well-deserved rest and relaxation leave, perhaps even a visit to Redwall Abbey. Tutsan now regretted not taking the Colonel up on his offer.

Mayweed, having followed behind, gasped in horror as the hare's body came into view.

The cries were coming from beside the dead hare. Tutsan drew his blade and crept around the fallen creature until he discovered the source of the noise.

"Mayweed, go get Blodwen. Tell her to bring her medical supplies with her."

"Sah, wot is it?" the haremaid asked quickly.

"Don't stand about like a duck with a daisy-chain, asking questions! That was an order - follow it."

Mayweed, confused and still shaken, hurried to carry out Tutsan's instructions.

When the haremaid returned, she brought not only the company's field healer but Brea as well. The pair of them huddled a respectful distance away, waiting to be enlightened on the recent development. Blodwen, like most Long Patrol medics, was not the sort to stand around. In one fluid movement she was next to Tutsan, her pack opened and taking stock of the situation "Oh, great seasons! 'Pon my life, I've never seen the like of this before."

Mayweed, unable to contain her curiosity anymore, crept closer. "Please, wot is it?"

Blodwen knelt besides Tutsan removing dressings, herbs and tools from her pack and setting to work immediately. "Premature birth. The poor mother must 'ave gone into labour the moment she escaped the burning house. Poor thing, the strain of it all did the poor bod in." The crying was becoming louder.

"It's a wonder the babe is alive, after all that calamity. She's so tiny but 'er lungs sound strong enough. Captain, hold her still - the cord is wound about her throat."

Tutsan knew better than to argue or question Blodwen's instructions. While she worked so ever so carefully, he scooped the infant into his paws. It was so soft and tiny. Its eyes were closed but the fur soft to the touch as it dried. He made gentle, soothing noises to the little mewling creature in his arms as Blodwen carefully snipped away the umbilical cord, severing the babe forever from its mother and dead family.

Mayweed not able to see the babe but upon hearing the conversation became concerned. "The cord is around its neck? Well, best be getting a jolly ole hurry and free it before it strangles itself."

"Miss Mayweed, what do you think I'm trying to do? Go make y'self useful and get some water for the little thing… oh, and it isn't an 'it.' The babe is a maid."

Brea crept closer as Mayweed dashed off to do her task. "Wot's the water for?" His voice was serious as he watched the healer work.

Blodwen didn't even look up as she answered. "Quite simple, m'dear Lieutenant. To get Miss Mayweed out from under me paws."

The two males loomed over Blodwen, Brea creeping forward and watching as the patrol healer tended to the injuries the infant had suffered as result of the strained delivery. Mayweed returned her canteen filled but ignored as she chatted with the others about the infant.

"She's so tiny"

"Poor little gel all alone in the world."

"She's not alone, Brea. She has us to take care of her, right?"

"Absolutely! What should we call her, Wen?"

"Awww, she's stopped crying. She must've taken a shine to us, wot!"

"I say, stop prodding the little thing like that!"

Tutsan looked up, barking a swift order to his patrol. "Back off, will ye. The maid's stopped breathing. Give the Corporal some room t'work."

Every creature went silent at this point, looking at the small creature as Blodwen massaged her chest, listening for a heartbeat and then breathing into the tiny mouth, inflating her lungs with air.

The terrified silence was halted by the shrill scream of the babe, and every hare there raised a loud sigh of relief.

"Good show, Wen. Top marks," Tutsan complimented the medic, removing his tunic so that she could use it to bundle up the leveret.

Carefully lifting the babe, Blodwen removed her from the ground, the ear tips hardly visible behind the folds of the tunic. "Don't go congratulating anyone yet, Captain. The maid has a chill from being exposed to the night air, not to mention the confounded smoke and the fact she's too small for a newborn. Don't go getting y' hopes up; she could still be dead in a few hours or a few days."

The other hares prepared to leave while Mayweed assisted Brea in sad business of burying the body of the mother hare. "Don't talk like that, Corporal," the younger hare sighed. "She will live. We'll see to it."


	6. Chapter 6: Visitors

**Chapter six **

**Visitors **

Vaniska had kept his band marching since they completed their work. When the dark task was over, the rest of the band had moved without question or comment, completely taken aback by the horrendous crime they had committed. None of the young vermin thought the task would actually be carried out. Even as they crept into the village barricading any means of exit, they hadn't grasped the full scale of their actions. Nor when they set torch to thatched roofs did the level of cruelty register with them. It wasn't until they fell back to watch the homesteads set ablaze did they magnitude of what they had done set in. The cries of those locked inside the buildings still rang in their ears, but numb to the world they trudged on. The day turned to late afternoon and soon drifted into evening, the band was growing hungry and weary. Wayta could sense their grumbles and complaints without them even saying a word.

Creeping closer to Vaniska he whispered in the leader's ear. "Might we not rest for a minute, chief?" he asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

Vaniska kept his eyes fixed forward, hardly acknowledging his friend at his side. "No. We must keep moving away from this place. No rest - not until we are clear of it. Make sure the stragglers in the rear cover our tracks. I don't want anybeast to follow us."

Sighing unhappily, Wayta said nothing; it was best not to argue. Further and further south they went. How long before they rested? Where were they going? Wayta knew better then to ask.

…

The young galloper Levkin sulked around the hares' camp, waiting for the rest of the patrol to return.

"I bet the ole bods are having all the fun out there. Slaying vermin, no doubt, and making heroes of themselves. Pro'lly get lots of gongs and ribbons for it too. And I'm stuck back here guarding the bloomin' campsite from wot?" He looked about, taking his sling as if about to attack a foebeast. Sighing, he slumped down on a log. "Absoballylutely nothing." He was about to sulk even more when he heard the sound branches rustling. Loading a stone into his sling, he stood rigid, listening as the creature or creatures came closer. "Who goes there, friend or foe? State your name and business, wot."

He could hear muffled voices though the foliage: There were two, and certainly not the other hares of his patrol.

"Ahoy, hare, we're friends. Y' can put that sling o' yours down now." The first voice called.

"Aye, mate, didn't mean to scare ye." A second followed soon after.

Two large male sea otters stepped into the campsite. The elder of the pair extended his muscular, heavily-tattooed paw to shake Levkin's.

The young galloper tried not to cringe at the otter's strong grip. "Hello, err, y'didn't frighten me sah. I could jolly well hear you tramping about the woodlands, I am on watch after all."

The second otter winked. "'Course y'could, mate. That's why ye was near about to chuck stones at us. Can't get anything past these hares, wot with their big ole ears and all, eh, Skipper?"

The older otter said nothing at first, seeing the flush of Levkin's cheeks. "No, I s'pose not. Ye should take a lesson from them then … mayhaps start by clearing your own lugs out once in a while." He smiled at the hare. "Don't y'mind Keelea. That numbskull of a brother I got likes to hear himself talk, I thinks."

Levkin looked between the two otters, noticing for the first time a faint family resemblance between them. "Very well, then, wot are two sea otters like you chaps doing in the middle of the jolly woodlands?"

Keelea chuckled, crossing his paws in front of him and shaking his head. "Middle of the woodlands, eh? The river is only up a short ways off and that runs fast for the ocean. Smart as paint, this one, Skip."

The otter glared at his brother menacingly. " Belay the gab 'der Keelea." Smiling at the young galloper again he explained. "We came looking for a young otter kit. He couldn't have gotten far. We managed to follow his tracks up this way. Though with the smoke we spotted this morning, I'm afraid he may have been spooked and gotten 'imself in a worse fix then he's already in. Don't suppose y'crossed paths with the little 'un?"

Putting his sling away, the young hare shook his head. "You chaps are the first otters I've seen in this neck of the woods. I though all you lot was supposed to be at some sort of annual thingamy or other."

"We were," Skipper explained. "But we left early. Travellin' with a young family, ye gotta take things a little slower, mate. Wanted to get back to our snug berth before the season got too old. Too many corsairs in these waters in autumn, trying to cut off supply vessels heading north."

Keelea, never content unless he added a few of his own words, continued the tale of their journey. "We were sailing just fine until Skip's eldest son Kale decided to jump ship and run away. They just had baby number two and I guess the little tyke was jealous."

Levkin twitched his ears. "Hmm. Well, that is a bit of a problem. The rest of the Patrol has gone to investigate the cause of that smoke. They should be back by evening. If your young Kale is out, there I'm sure they'll spot him."

Skipper sat on one of the fallen logs with a heavy sigh." I hope so, mate. I've searched high and low for him. I can't return empty-pawed. He's too little to be out here all by his lonesome."


	7. Chapter7:Sons and Daughters Lost & Found

**A/N:**

**Thank you again for all the kind reviews. Please, if you have any feedback, send me a note or write a review. **

**Chapter seven **

**Sons and Daughters lost and found **

Leaving the site of the farming community, the hares marched double time to regroup back at their camp before evening. The sun was already starting to dip away to its resting place beyond the trees. Hues of orange and yellow stretched its warm embrace over the southern countryside. Song birds nestled down for the night, their last tunes echoed on the breeze calling loved ones back to nest. The countryside was at peace, as though it had forgotten the terrors of the pervious eve.

Tutsan carried the precious burden carefully ahead of his patrol. Blodwen walked close behind her commander, who'd pulled rank for the right to carry the baby. Trudging though the woodlands, trying to keep up speed and yet not jostle the infant, proved much harder then Tutsan had first imagined. But the little creature weighed nothing at all and, worn out from the day's events, had fallen peacefully asleep in his paws.

The Captain wanted nothing more than a quiet and peaceful return after the horrors his patrol has witnessed that day. But the quiet of twilight was cut short by the muffled sound of somebeast creeping though the shrubbery. Brea heard it as well, drawing his blade he nodded to Tutsan. "Hear that racket, I say, could be some scummy vermin following the smoke in hope of plunder and what have you. Want me to see to it?"

Tutsan nodded. "Yes, but keep the noise down if y'don't mind, Lieutenant. The little one has just gone to sleep."

Brea smiled and gestured that Mayweed should follow him. The maid, always obliging for her handsome lieutenant, drew her own saber and followed after.

There was a muffled groan, followed by the sound of a scuffle and within moments Mayweed reappeared, pulling a young otter kit out from the underbrush by his ear. Brea followed behind, clutching his side and wincing painfully.

Tutsan looked to Blodwen and shook his head, calling out to the woodlands. "Right oh, if there are anymore orphans hiding around in these bally woodlands, come out now, wot!"

"I ain't no orphan," the little otter said with a scowl, struggling to get away from Mayweed's grip.

Mayweed let him go for fear of the young otter wrenching her arm off. "Well, what are you then, you young rip?"

The otter stuck out his tongue at her. "Me name is Kale, not young Rip. And I don't have to tell you nuthin'. My mum said not to talk to strangers."

"She ought to have told you to mind yer cheeky tone when addressing y'elders 'n betters." The haremaid replied briskly.

Tutsan turned to Brea, who was walking off an apparent injury. "Do I really want to know, old lad?" There was a hint of amusement on the officer's face. Kale was quite tiny, where as Brea was a full grown hare well trained in blades and paw to paw combat.

Brea shook his head. "No, sah. But that chappie would make any foot fighter proud with the way he flings those footpaws about."

Heaving a sigh, Tutsan started walking again. "Patrol, move on. Young 'un, you best come along with us. We'll figure this whole blooming mess out at camp."

…

Levkin was first up on his paws when the hares returned to camp, coming to smart attention and throwing an elaborate salute as his officers arrived. This behaviour threw Tutsan off for a moment; it wasn't like Levkin to behave in such away. Then, seeing the camp was cleaned with a fire already lit and supper on, he looked around as if to find out what had happened to the real Levkin. He wondered if his sharp words had brought about a change in the young galloper. Spotting the two otters, Tutsan realized the true reason for such actions: He was showing off to guests. Well, whatever it took to keep him on his best behaviour.

Before introductions could be made, the young otter Kale was immediately scooped up by his father.

"Don't you ever, EVER run off on us like that again," he scolded loudly while squeezing his tiny son in a protective hug.

Tutsan found himself a comfortable spot by the fire, rocking the babe back to sleep. "Well, that solves that little mystery. Now, Levkin, who are these jolly looking chaps that have y've become chums with?"

Before the runner could speak, the otters introduced themselves. "I'm Skipper Derya, and this 'ere is me brother Keelea. We've been hunting for this little wretch since dawn. He slipped away from his mother during the night."

The young otter, now free from his father's grasp, muttered darkly. "Not that you care. You got Alton now."

Brea, having not fully forgiven Kale for the otter kit's earlier attack on his ribs, scowled. "Now, young 'un, that's no way t'address y' father. What's this Alton thingamy?"

Keelea explained. "That's the new baby. Born only about three days back - nice cubby little wavedog he is, all bright an' alert. You consider yourself lucky, Kale, your Mum had to stay back and nurse the little one. Oh ho, mate, you would have been sorry had she found you. We best get going, Skip. Your missus will be off her head with worry."

As the otters were about to thank the hares for their help, Blodwen interrupted. "Excuse me, old chap, but did you say missus Skipper is nursing?"

With a baffled look on his face, the otter chief nodded. "Aye, marm, isn't that what most mothers do when they has little ones?"

"My point exactly," she said with a smile, then kissed the ears of their tiny haremaid. "You're a lucky one, m'dear - a true luck child."

A plan had formulated in the healer's mind, knowing the babe could not survive on greensap milk mixed with herbs alone. "We found a baby over where the fire had been. Her mother was slain and she's too young to fend for herself. She's weak and sickly and the only chance she might have in surviving is if your Goodwife will agree to nurse her as she would her own. Once we get back to the jolly ole fire mountain I'm sure more can be done for the little gel, but for now this is the best chance she bally well has."

Skipper bobbed his head respectively. "Marm, my wife Margie would have it no other way. No time to be flapping jaws around here, mates - shouldn't we be moving? We'll be sailing north at dawn and can drop you off at your mountain. T'would be the least we can do after you found Kale for us."

All eyes went to Tutsan, awaiting his orders. "The vermin who set those fires may still be at large. Woodlanders must be warned of the danger. Now, I know this patrol is already well overdue to go home. But we cannot leave now after what we witnessed today."

"I'll stay, then," Brea said, polishing his blade. "With Mayweed and Levkin. We'll patrol about this neck of the woods, spreading the word to any creature we cross paths with. There should be another patrol headed this way any day now, so it shouldn't be long before we find reinforcements, wot. And when you and Blodwen return home, you can send out relief to continue the hunt for the creatures who did this. Then we'll make the blighters pay. It will be nothing but blood and vinegar and death for the scummy lot."

"Hold on a tick, Brea. I'm the commanding officer here. I should stay and finish wot was started." Tutsan's whiskers twitched as he spoke.

"All due respect, sah. You are in charge, I understand, but somebeast has to give a full report to old Colonel Hardan when they arrive home, wot with Blodwen busy caring for the babe and all. And forgive me for saying, but I think the maid is a little attached to you …. and you to her, sah." Brea shrugged and went back to his saber. "Now, like the otter chap said, there isn't time to be talking it out. Give the order and move on right sharpish."

Seeing the sense in his lieutenant's comments, Tutsan gave in and prepared to leave, giving the last orders. "All right, troops, do whatever it is Brea said we should do and I'll see you back at Salamandastron soon and hopefully all in one piece. Compliments, one and all, good night, good luck, and don't do anything I wouldn't do."

Leaving ration packs and supplies behind for the others, Tutsan and Blodwen travelled light, following the three otters.


	8. Chapter 8: Old Tales in the Night

**Chapter eight **

**Old tales in the Night **

The long absence of her husband made Peony Linwood's nights at Salamandastron particularly lonely. Growing up in a military fortress, the luxury of having private sleeping quarters was known only by the Badger ruler, and a small number of unmarried, high-ranking officers, or beasts of special consideration. Peony, like most other hares in the mountain, shared a room with her parents until she was a leveret of schooling age, then she move to junior barracks with other female leverets her own age. After leaving school she moved into another set of accommodations with other haremaids until marriage. Sitting alone on her marriage bed, the night was growing late and the single candle she had lit was burning down to a short stub. She missed the sound of snores and muffled gossiping that once annoyed her greatly. Her life might not have offered much in the way of personal space or privacy, but there was never loneliness. Peony did, however enjoy the extra space and privacy during the daytime hours. With Tutsan being an officer, the Linwoods were granted a small study attached to their chambers. It was a modest, tiny room with only two armchairs, a side table, a small desk, and beautiful cherrywood cabinet that her mother had given them as a wedding gift. This small extra space provided Peony with just enough to humbly entertain friends who frequently visited, especially in the past few weeks as many eagerly awaited the new arrival.

Unable to stand the solitude any longer, she stood, changed out of her nightgown and into an oversized homespun smock. Unlatching the door she made for the hallway; an evening walk would help her sleep.

Salamandastron's upper floors were quiet this time of evening. After dark there were strict rules regarding the amount of noise permitted on the living quarter levels. Barring an emergency or an attack, things were expected to be near silent out of respect for those hares reporting for duty at first light and needing their sleep. Peony crept down the stairs as quietly as she could, the lit torches in their iron braziers guiding the way. Upon the landing she could hear muffled voices, one distinctly male and the other female. As she crept closer she recognized them to be those of Colonel Hardan and Oranna.

The elder hare had brought the young badger aside for a private conference. Seated on a stone window seat that had been cut into the ledge, the two quietly conversed, completely unaware of their eavesdropper.

"I'm going to be quite frank with you, m'dear, when I say this mountain jolly well needs a proper badger ruler." Hardan sighed heavily as he addressed the badgermaid; his voice sounded tired, which was unusual for the stalwart hare. "The chaps grow restless with lack of a strong h'administrative core at Salamandastron. Oranna, I am too bally old to be taking on as much as I 'ave these past seasons. Nearly clapped out, with all the seasons I've served the regiment. Your dear mother, as good as she jolly well 'as been to us, is not the proper ruler of this place, wot. That role falls to you, m'dear."

The young badger paused for a long moment. "But Hardan, I can't do it. This isn't fair! I can't do it! I study and study as you and mother insist, but I still don't know the first thing about ruling a place this size, let alone commanding the Long Patrol. What if I do something wrong? All the hares will hate me. My orders impact what happens in a good portion of Mossflower. I don't want to take on that much responsibility."

" Confound it, you can and you will, young miss. Very few things in this world are fair. Fate can be a cruel thing to us all, but it can also bring hidden blessings just the same. Oranna, I would not be having this conversation with you if I did not believe on my honour and heart, that you were the one meant to rule Salamandastron. I know how frightening it can be to have so much responsibility thrust upon oneself, regardless we bally well press on. Your h'orders will impact wot happens, and one of these days you will give the h'order that will lead many a perilous warrior to the grave. 'owever, there will also be times when your commands will save many lives. It is our duty 'n honour to see this done."

Oranna stood abruptly, sniffing and whiping a paw across her nose. "Oh, don't talk to me of duty and sacrifice. Had father not bought into all that …all that … all that rubbish, he would be alive today and I wouldn't be in this situation right now."

Hardan tried to calm the emotional youth, placing a comforting paw on her shoulder, but she shrugged it off. "M'dear gel, your father left us far too soon, there is no denying it, but the fact of the matter is he has been gone near ten seasons and it is time we move on. No sense fretting about wot might 'ave been or wot could 'ave been and all that rot. The events that took our Badger Lord were most unfortunate, but he died with honour - a true testament to Salamandastron, wot."

"Father died in an infirmary bed, Colonel. He ended his days an unrecognizable pile of fur bone and puss. Before his death he couldn't recognize his mate or his own daughter. Father led your Long Patrol out to the seashore to fight the slave ship and free the slaves. He brought those plague-ridden beasts into this place we call home, and for what? What did it prove? They all died and he died as well and now you want me to pick up the pieces and go on. Don't you dare sit there are tell me that that sort of death is honourable. It's stupid; he never should have brought those creatures in. It was stupid and I hate him for it. Don't you even think of giving me that stiff upper lip rubbish either."

There was a long pause before the hare said anything. Looking over his uniform, he gently brushed a bit of lint off his sleeve as if that bit of fibre was far more important than the badger's outburst. Then, for an instant, Oranna expected the officer to shout at her. Maybe she wanted him to shout at her. Closing her eyes, she braced for his sharp tongue, readying a quick rebuttal in her mind. But when the hare spoke, his voice was steady and calm and he didn't even look up at her. Perhaps that's what made the words hurt that much more.

"Miss, I'm very sorry to say that your Mother is right. I didn't want to believe it meself, but I say, ye are indeed the most spoiled, selfish badger to ever set paw in Salamandastron. Y' think only of y'self and your loss, forgetting all the other creatures that lost loved ones when that dreadful sickness came. Y'were only a small maid then, so I don't expect ye to understand or remember the rule of y'father. However, do not insult a former badger ruler ever again in my presence. Good night."

Having said his piece, Colonel Hardan arose from his seat. Ever the dignified officer, he saluted his soon-to-be commander and marched off down the hall without another word.

Peony gasped in her hiding place on the landing. She could hear the Colonel climbing the stairs to retire to his chambers. Before she could get out of the way he, bumped right into her. Blinking repeatedly, Hardan placed a paw over his heart. "'pon my life, Missus Linwood, ye startled me."

Peony turned to her Colonel, a look of concern upon her gentle features. It was out of character for the kindly elder to call her anything but Peony.

"Sah, are you alright?"

Taking hold of the railing, he moved up another step, sniffing as he did so. His head was turned so that he wouldn't have to make eye contact with her. Peony could see his eyes welling up but didn't question it.

"Of course, I'm fine … I'm jolly well fine. Now why are ye roaming the halls at this late hour, entirely improper, wot wot." Then in a whisper he added, "How long 'ave ye been standing there?"

"Long enough. Colonel, I'm very sorry."

"Yes … well. I would be most h'appreciative if you would not allow anything ye might 'ave heard to become gossip tomorrow morn," He said, climbing up the stairs towards his room.

"Right, sah," Peony said, peering down the stairs at Oranna, who remained seated on the ledge alone.

Casting another glance to see the Colonel was well out of sight, she tip-pawed down the stairs to the young badger.

"Excuse me, Lady Oranna … Might I have a moment?" she asked politely.

Oranna turned suddenly, wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her paw. "Are you going to get mad at me now too then?"

"No. I just wanted to say that I think that you will make an absolutely wonderful ruler, and I will be greatly honoured to serve under you, marm. Nobeast knows the suffering inflicted by that terrible sickness more then you and Hardan, and I know it must be terrible for the both of you."

Oranna folded her paws in front of her chest defiantly. "How could Hardan possibly know what I went though?"

"Oh you don't know marm?" Peony asked, sitting up next to the badger. "Hardan's only son died the same way your father did. He was one of the healers trying to save your father's life. It is suspected that he contracted the illness from his Lordship. Colonel Hardan doesn't like to bring it up; in fact, he would have my ears if he knew I even told you this. So can we just keep this our little secret marm?"

Oranna sighed, feeling a pang of guilt for how she'd spoken to the officer hare just moments ago. "Oh, I really am a spoiled brat, aren't I? Thank you, Peony, for telling me this."

"Don't mention it, m'lady … and I'm serious about that." Smiling, she bobbed her head politely and returned to bed.


	9. Chapter 9: The Voyage Begins

**A/N**

**Hello again,**

**Thank you to everyone who has taken a moment to put up a review or some comments. I really do appreciate it and try to take into account any feedback or comments. If anyone has any comments, suggestions, or feedback (positive, negative or indifferent) please review or send a message to me. **

**Chapter Nine is one of my favourites in Book One. I'm not sure how well I'm doing typing out dialects. How a character sounds in my head vs in text doesn't always amount to the same thing. As my family is from the East Coast of Canada, I sometimes give my seafaring characters a little East Coast flavour. As result there may be a few phrases or words not typical to Redwall language. This won't affect this chapter too much, but it will in chapters to come. **

**Chapter Nine **

**The Voyage Begins **

It was late into the night by the time the hares and otters reached Skipper Derya's ship. The barque was moored in a quiet inlet, a soft light visible through the cabin window. Tutsan was pleased and amazed at the great speed the two otter brothers made getting them to the ocean. Once the travellers came upon The Great South Stream, Skipper and Keelea uncovered their hidden dory and rowed everybeast out to the ship. With a little help from the river's current and the skill of the two otters, they managed to cut their travel time by half. Derya smiled proudly up at his vessel, remarking to Tutsan, "Sure, she ain't as large as some but _The Morning Star _is a beautiful old girl. She's been in this family for generations. Needs a little fixing up now and again, but she's as beautiful as ever and can outrun any seascum vessel when she needs to." From the small hold in the dory the otter produced an ancient brass hand bell. With his strong paws he clanged the bell causing the little harebabe to whimper with fright from the din. Aboard ship several friendly otter faces leaned over the side lowering a rope ladder and their hearty paws to help everybeast aboard.

Tutsan didn't know the first thing about boats or seafaring, despite Salamandastron being in such close proximity to the ocean. Not wanting to show his ignorance, he nodded approvingly he climbed aboard the vessel. _The Morning Star_ was painted a cheerful green with white and blue accents on railings and forward cabins. The Long Patrol hare's keen eyes noted the complexity in which the sails tied back and the craftbeastship that had gone into carving reliefs of fish or flowers on the deck rails. Deciding he ought to comment on the fine vessel he tried to appear well educated in seafaring vessels. "Yes, a fine ship you have here, Skipper. I particularly admire the .. .er ... deck. Yes, a good sturdy deck is always of great importance, wot."

Keelea helped the patrol's healer board _The Morning Star. _Winking rougishly the cheeky otter was heard to mumble under his breath,"Oh, this is gonna be one long ride north."

The remaining crew of _The Morning Star _gathered on deck to welcome the party aboard. They set about hauling the dory up from the water, flipping the boat over and sliding it over a wooden shelf build on deck. Derya made the introductions, while lashing the small craft securely into place.

"Tutsan, Blodwen, this is me fine crew and family: My mother Lamina, youngest brother Jakey, brothers-in-law Kendall 'n Coty and of course me darling wife Margie." Everybeast was assembled on deck greeting the hares but Margie was nowhere to be seen. Derya looked about. "Now where did Margie go?"

Then, to answer his question, a formidable otterwife emerged from below deck. Ignoring her husband and the guests, she headed directly for Kale the otter kit. Shifting the bundle on her back, she hauled the poor young creature up by the scruff of his neck, scolding the little one fiercely as she pulled him into a tight hug.

"Don't ye ever run off on me like that again. Are ye trying t'burry me before the season is much older, me son? So help me, I oughtta tan your tail so's ye won't be able to sit down 'til next summer."

The kit began crying into his mother's fur, but it did little to sooth Margie's temper.

"Oh ho, don't ye start dat wit me, laddo. It's off to bed with ye now, soon as you've had a feed of something. An' next time ye think about jumping ship, we're not going back for ye, do ye hear me, Kale?"

One of Margie's burly brothers stepped in to intervene on the child's behalf. "Marge, 'ow's the kit supposed to answer ye if you're smothering 'im like dat?"

The female otter immediately released her eldest son from her tight embrace. Wiping his runny nose with the back of his paw, the little fellow crept away from his mother lest she envelop him in another one of her crushing hugs.

Lamina called Kale over to her, with a tone far softer. "Come along now, Kale, let's get ye a bite of supper and then it's off t'bed like yor mama said."

With the kit taken care of, Margie readjusted the bundle on her back so it rested at her side properly. Peeking though the folds was the face of a chubby sea otter babe, his whiskers twitching softly in slumber. The otter wife glanced at the hares, noticing them for the first time. "Hello there, where in the name of wind 'n waves did ye two pop up from?"

Derya was quick to explain. "These 'ares helped find our Kale, me darling. Somethin' terrible 'as 'appened in the woodlands. Somebeast or beasts set fire to a farm. The other 'ares stayed behind to try to find the cowardly scum and warn the woodlands afore it happens again. Tutsan and Blodwen here are going to be sailing wit' us, along with the little one that was found on the farm. The little babe is in a bad way, Margie me dear, and we got to get 'er back to Salamandastron as soon as possible. Not t'mention Salamandastron should be informed of what happened."

Margie looked from Blodwen to Tutsan, then back to her husband. "Derya, why didn't ye say that t'begin with? Welcome, t'both of ye. Now let's not all be standin' about gossipin'. Time to get this tub movin'." Babe slung to her side still sleeping away, the Skipper's wife continued barking out orders to the small crew, leaving Derya standing with the hares shrugging as he went to join in the work. "Ye know, Tutsan, I let her give the orders now and again," he said a little sheepishly.

Blodwen couldn't help but laugh, patting the sea otter on the back. "Never you worry, Skipper old lad. Tut's married himself and knows all about it, You knows who's really in charge don't you Captain."

Nodding in agreement, Tutsan laughed. "Best do what Mrs. Skipper says wot, I say look at the way she's giving orders, could use a gel like her back at Slamandastron t'keep the young rankers in line wot. He and Blodwen followed Margie and Skipper to the cabin where the babe could get some proper rest.

Suspended from ropes on the ceiling, a finely-crafted basket cradle hung swaying gently as the boat moved on the waves. Taking the precious bundle from her sling, Margie entrusted the chubby babe, into his father's arms. As the Skipper cradled the little creature, his eyes lit up with the pride of fatherhood. Two handsome sons in the span of two seasons, a healthy wife and a ship to call his own - what more could any seaotter ask for?

Margie occupied herself at the sea chest, retrieving a soft crème coloured infant's blanket for the unnamed leveret. It was knitted from wool spun from the softest thistle-down to be warm and comforting against a newborns tiny form. "This should suit the little one far better than yer tunic, sir. Pass 'er over 'ere and she can nap with me Alton."

Tutsan was hesitant to pass over the little harebabe whom he had carried most diligently since leaving the decimated village. A nudge from Blodwen brought him back to his senses, and the leveret was passed into the otter wife's capable paws.

Returning the uniform jacket to Tutsan, she swaddled the harebabe expertly in the blanket, rocking the child gently in her paws as she did so. "My, wot a beautiful little t'ing ye are," she cooed, her voice losing the gruff tone it had held earlier. "Ye're the sweetest liddle creature in dis whole world. But 'ow am I going to see just how pretty dat face of yers is if you never open your eyes?"

As if on cue, the tiny harebabe fluttered open her large baby blue eyes, staring up in wonder at the otter mother. Murmuring contently, she snuggled into Margie, blinking once, and gazed around at all creatures standing around her.

"Well, look at that," Tutsan said, smiling down at the babe. "Those are the biggest blue peepers I've ever seen. Not brown like a normal hare's, but brilliant, jolly strange and yet absolutely stunning, wot."

Margie laughed softly. "Nonsense, sir, all babies 'ave blue eyes when they're little. She'll be a brown doe-eyed beauty in no time."

The smell of cooking drifted in from the galley. "Yer mother has a good feed on," Margie remarked to her husband. Smiling to Tutsan and Blodwen, she nodded in the direction of the ship's gally. "Get along, ye two. I never met a hare who wasn't ready and willing for a good spot of summat to eat. Away wit' the lot of ye! I'll stay here and nurse the little ones. Just remember to save some fer me."

Tutsan buttoned up his uniform, following behind Derya to the galley of _The Morning Star._ Hares naturally had large appetites and were renowned for their ability to devour great quantities of food. At Salamandastron, a buck could pride himself and even receive certain bragging rights for the amount of food he could scoff in one sitting. However, to engage in such behavior while a guest of another creature was frowned upon in many hare circles. So both Blodwen and Tutsan took extra precaution to mind their eating habits while aboard _The Morning star. _

Derya's mother Lamina prepared a marvellous supper for the evening. There was of course the staple to all otter diets, water shrimp 'n' hotroot soup, steaming away in a large pot on the iron stove. There were also salt fish which had sat in soak all day to remove the salt before being pan fried with butter and thick slices of potato. A large bread pudding was made with raisins, currents, and dried berries dusted with nutmeg. There was also mushroom and onion pie dripping with gravy and large pieces of carrot and potato.

In addition to the usual fare, Tutsan noticed a bowl placed on the galley table filled with seawater and what he perceived to be several large, spiky pebbles.

The otters lined up eagerly, bowls and plates in paw. Lamina served up the food in generous portions all piping hot. Blodwen joined the otters, politely passing up the hotroot soup for a sound helping of mushroom 'n onion pie. Tutsan, on the other paw, was still perplexed by the contents of the bowl on the table.

"Come on, me love, get something to eat before there is none left," Lamina called to Tutsan, holding out a heavily laden plate of food for the hare.

"Oh, thank you, Marm." He accepted the food graciously, taking a seat with the otters back at the table. He watched in utter amazement as Keelea reached into the water-filled bowl, pulling out one of the spiked things. In one quick movement, the sea otter sliced it clear in two with his knife and scooped out the gooey contents, eating it as quickly as he could.

Kendall and Coty thought the hare captain's expression most amusing. "What's the matter, mate, never seen a sea urchin before?" they asked in unison.

"Er, no. Can't say I have. Sea urchin y'say jolly strange, I've never come across a plant spiked like a hedgehog before." Tutsan said, looking at the discarded shell of the devoured urchin.

This caused much merriment amongst the otter crew. Lamina brandished her stir spoon threateningly. "Now now, don't ye be making fun of the good Captain." When their laughter had subsided, she explained, "Sea urchins are no plants sir. They live underwater - a real otter delicacy if ye can get a few and ye don't mind the spikes. They spoil quickly so have to be eaten as fresh as ye can get 'em."

Seeing one of the creatures in the bowl move, Tutsan realized just how fresh Lamina meant and decided he would not venture to try one. "Most interesting, Marm, but I think I'll stick with something that won't bite me back, wot."

With supper finished, the otter crew returned to their duties. Blodwen offered to take a plate up for Margie, who was still tending to the babes. "I'd best go check on the haremaid. Get Margie's tuck, I'm sure she's famished minding all the little ones."

Lacking all nautical skills, the poor Long Patrol Captain found himself unable to assist the otter crew in any other way than to tidy up the galley and help old Lamina with the dishes. Taking a dishtowel, he dried as she washed, chatting contently to disguise his disappointment of having to do such a job.

"Have you and Corporal Blodwen decided on a name for the little 'un?" the old otterwife asked, passing him another bowl.

"No, Marm, come to think about it I really haven't put much thought into the matter. She seems to be doing much better now that we're out of the woodlands. Perhaps it is about time to give the gel a proper name, wot." He paused in drying the dish, musing over what would be an appropriate name. "I've never been fond of naming young 'uns for their appearance of circumstances of their birth. It wouldn't be very dignified for the young lass to go through life as a Firepaw or a Flame something or other. Even Ash, despite it also being a wood of most commendable strength and usefulness, wouldn't make a jolly good name."

"So what does make a good name?" Lamina asked, wiping her wet paws in her apron.

"Something with long standing or perilous tradition to it. Letitia perhaps. Oh yes, I do rather like the sound of that one. T'was my own mother's name, don'tcha know. Letitia Linwood - now there's a name befitting a young mountain haremaid."

The old otter smiled as the hare continued, his expression growing more wistful with ever word. "Aye, a very suitable name. Yer mother must 'ave been a very dear creature to ye if you would honour 'er in such a way. So, you're adopting the little one, are ye?"

"Well … adoption is quite the complicated matter dontcha know, particularly with young-uns found in the manner little Letti was found. By rights I ought to be taking her to Redwall Abbey as we do with most orphans we discover. But I have grown rather fond of the little leveret."

"Tutsan, now there is an understatement if ever I 'eard one. Ye have every intention of raising that youngster as yers. Goodness sakes, ye named her for yer mother and even just called 'er by a pet name. Just listen to yerself, ye silly lump of a hare. Why don't ye go to her, never mind the dishes - I can see to this mess. Off you go now, Papa - go see to yer little Letti!"

Tutsan needed no second bidding, dropping the dishtowel and kissing Lamina on the cheek and rushing out of the galley.

Bursting into the cabin without so much as knocking, Tutsan excitedly exclaimed the maid's new name over and over with great pride and excitement. "Letitia, Letitia, oh little Letti, what an absolutely spiffin' name I have for you."

Margie, who sat on the edge of the bed nursing the newly-named babe, passed a confused glance to Blodwen. The healer just shook her head and continued crushing herbs with her pestle.

"Letitia Linwood, sounds rather pretty, has a nice ring to it," Blodwen remarked casually, watering down the thick herbal paste she had created.

Tutsan smiled broadly, and then, realizing he had just barged in on the nursing Margie, abruptly made an about face, flushing right to his ear tips.

Margie laughed, thinking his reaction quite humorous. "What's the matter there, Tutsan?" her voice teasing him.

"Er, nothing, Marm. Just giving you a bit of privacy, that's all," he sputtered, making a step towards the door.

Blodwen sighed, taking the babe once Margie finished. The newly named Letitia whimpered piteously at being taken away from nursing.

Still facing the door the Captain continued to sing the praises of the newborn. "Little Letti will be a perilous one, mark m'words. I should wonder if she'll be running afore she can jolly well walk,"

"We shall see, Sah. Now, why not come in and help me with the babe so I can change her bandages and get her to bed."

When Tutsan hesitated, Margie piped up. "Oh, for the love of fur, it is safe to come in now, ye foolish thing."

Sheepishly, Tutsan turned around, muttering inaudible apologies for having barged in without knocking. Yet he wasn't given the chance to say much, for the small babe was thrust into his paws. Smiling from whisker to whisker, the embarrassing incident was immediately forgotten. Margie threw him an old dish rag. "She'll need to be burped before you put her down for the night."

The male hare was quite confused by this. "Burped?"

"Aye, burped. Rest her on your shoulder and lightly pat her back. And you'll want to put that rag over your shoulder."

Knowing better then question the otterwife, Tutsan did as he was bid, ignoring the other two and chatting away with Letti as he rubbed her soft, downy back.

"You're going to be so happy when we get home Letti. You'll stay with Mummy and Papa in our nice little room. You're Mother will be so happy to see ye, she longs for a gel you know. Don't let yourself get too spoiled, it will be hard I know, but at least try. Maybe in a few seasons ye'll have a younger brother or sister to play with. I'm sure ye would like that wot. Of course ye would, and all the other little hares ye can play with. Then when you're a bit older the three of us can go patrolling together. Let those legs strengthen up a bit and ye'll be as fast as the flippin wind in a flat run. No vermin archer will ever be able to make you his target. And it will be woe to the foebeast who comes up against you. Oh Letti the great mountain is going to run out of medals to award you with by the time your grown. Ye'll have Badger lady Oranna make up some new ones just so she can give it to ye wot. "

Blodwen broke up their little moment together to re-wrap the bandages on the babe's hind legs and give her some of the mixture she had been carefully preparing.

"Well, it seems you have everything planned out for the little one, Sah," she said, inspecting the injuries to Letti's legs and satisfied they were still clean and showing improvement. "I didn't think it back in the woodlands, but now I think young Letti here might just pull though. She's been up and as alert as little Alton is. Ye should have seen them earlier, Captain, both curled up together and sleeping without a care in the world."

The harebabe cried as Blodwen tried to get her to swallow a small amount of her herbal concoction. "Come on, little one, ye have to take it," the healer urged, as if she could talk reason into the few-days-old child.

To the surprise of the two females, it was Tutsan who came up with a sensible solution. "Give it here, I'll get her to take it." Dipping the tip of his paw into the bowl, he brought it up to the babe's lips. Murmuring contently, the little one took hold and sucked on his pawtip, taking in the medicine. It was a slow process, but without tears the dose was administered.

"See, ladies. I am more then just a handsome face." Tutsan winked.


	10. Chapter 10: New Foes

**Chapter Ten **

**New Foes **

For two days, Vaniska kept his gang on the move without pausing to make camp. The gang of fire-starters left the shelter of the southern woodlands and made for the coast. They were headed in a southerly direction, keeping the sea to their right and the flatlands to their right. Vaniska used routes frequented only by thieves and scoundrels. He had hoped that straying into such territory would embellish the reputation he was trying to earn. Much to his dismay, their razing of the village had seemed to go unnoticed. To add to his disappointment, Vaniska's new chosen route failed to produce the desired results. The gang could wander all day and never see another creature. However once night fell, the vermin found they had to watch their backs lest they be robbed or worse. In the dark the wind played tricks on them, rustling branches so they believed another beast to be near, or whipping past rocky outcrops mocking the sounds of owls. Although Vaniska would dare not let it be known, he would not make camp for fear of being murdered as he slept.

Weary and pawsore, the band halted, refusing to budge until properly rested. Vaniska himself found he could not muster the strength to carry on. Giving in to his body's exhaustion, he agreed to make camp.

In their weariness the band settled down on the grass alongside the pawpath they had been following. Wiser creatures would have selected a campsite out of view from the main drag. The site was visible to anybeast high on the hillside or traveling along the coast. However, Vaniska and his followers were not wise creatures. The sun began to sink behind the trees as Vaniska and his gang laid their cloaks and tunics on the ground to use as makeshift bedding. The night blanketed the vermin in darkness, no campfire or lantern lit to shed light. It wouldn't have mattered anyway, for the four pairs of eyes that had been watching the gang since morning needed no light for what they had in mind.

Once the snores of the young vermin could be heard, the four watchers sprang into action. A quartet of sleek weasels stalked amongst the sleeping bodies, eyes darting this way and that to take a quick inventory of what was to be had. They were the Easlew brothers - a band of robbers who knew these lands like the backs of their paws. Many a traveler, wayfarer, or even other thief had fallen victim to the brothers. Their patience and boldness had served the scoundrels well over the seasons. For hours or perhaps even days they might follow a victim, sizing up what sort of beast they might be, and what goods they may be carrying. From the moment they spied the group of foxes and vermin straying into their territory the weasels had decided to make sport of them.

"T'aint much to be had. This lot's poorer than a family of church mice," muttered Bilken Easlew to his eldest brother Rask.

Rask Easlew stood out as a larger weasel both in size and build. Testing the tip of his knife with his paw, he nodded to his younger brother. "Aye, but take what ye can carry. These young twits need to be taught a lesson, scampering along these roads as if they own 'em."

The four went to work lifting weapons, food or anything else that caught their interest. Their paws moved quickly, stealing from the slumbering creatures without waking them. The few belongings the vermin possessed were stuffed into rough burlap bags, toted by each of the Easlew brothers.

"Aw, look at 'em slumbering away like babes," Rask said without raising his voice above a whisper. "Bilken, Potro, Jasker, stuff those sacks aside and get out yor blades. I think we ought t'wake the darlings up."

Sniggering as they set about their work, the cruel siblings drew their weapons and surrounded the sleeping Vaniska. Rask pressed his knife blade to Vaniska's throat, speaking directly into the fox's ear.

"Now ye listen to me, foxy. Ye and yer crew are going t'get up nice and slowlike, 'n shift yerselves smartlike. If ye enjoy livin', dat is."

Vaniska's eyes shot open and he tried to rise but, feeling the blade prick his skin through his neck fur, thought better of it.

"Now now," laughed Rask. "Not so fast, young 'un. I thought foxes was supposed to be sly creatures. Ye, mate, got a lot t'learn if youse want to stray down these paths. Get yer creatures moving now afore we slay ye to remove yer stupidity from this 'ere land."

Kicking Vaniska in the flanks, he lifted his blade and shouted, "Go on, get going if you know what's good for you!"

Scrambling up to his footpaws, Vaniska blinked, wondering if this could all be a dream. The other members of his band were being stirred into wakefulness by Rask's brothers, who kicked and prodded the sleeping vermin until they awoke confused and bewildered.

Rask shook his head. Did these vermin not realize how easily the brothers could have slain the lot of them? The weasel felt a touch of uncharacteristic pity for the fools.

"Listen up, ye wretches! Ye've made the worst mistake of yor young lives camping 'ere, but we're gonna let ye off easy. Leave now and we'll let ye live. Then again, if the mood strikes us we may change our minds and hunt ye down and slaughter the lot of ye jus' fer sport. But for now we'll give ye a fightin' chance."

Returning to full wakefulness, Vaniska glared at the weasel. Straightening himself up to his full height, he boldly and stupidly strode forward. "We ain't going nowhere."

The fox's challenge was met by uproarious laughter from the Easlew brothers. Shaking with mirth and wiping a mock tear from his eye, Rask looked as if he were about to fall over seeing some strange comedy in the fox's action. This lured Vaniska into a false sense of security.

"See lads, this lot ain't anything more then a load of flea-bitten ditch robbers," he taunted, trying to win over his nerve-racked band.

The eldest weasel suddenly stopped laughing. "Beg pardon?" Vaniska didn't have a chance to reply before Rask knocked the wind out of him with a quick punch to the stomach. Two of the younger brothers grabbed hold of the staggering fox. Pinned like this, Vaniska had no way to ward off Rask's subsequent punches, piling pain on top of humiliation. When Rask was finished, he surveyed his work with satisfaction: a broken and bloody nose, two black eyes and a number of unsightly welts rising though Vaniska's fur. A little worse for wear, but Vaniska would live. Rask smirked as he turned to the terrified gang.

"I'll say this one more time. Go now and I won't kill ye. Ye youngsters are starting to try me patience."

Without a second thought, the band broke into a frantic run, Vaniska in the rear struggling to keep up.

The Easlew brothers didn't wait around to watch them go. Those thieves had other places to call on tonight.

…..

By morning, the band of Vaniska was utterly exhausted. The fox's face was terribly swollen, his snout crooked from the break, but it was his pride that suffered the most. They'd run through the night until they were sure they had lost the four weasels, but when they finally settled again to rest, sleep did not come. Trying to stay alert while sleeping proved impossible, and by morning every creature looked more dead than alive.

To make matters worse, it wasn't until the light of day that the band took full stock of their situation. Their food and weapons were gone, along with anything they might have been able to trade for more goods.

Vaniska scowled, pacing as he cursed all weasels up and down. Nursing his injuries as best he could, he shook off any who tried to help him, muttering darkly to himself.

Wayta crept forward, weary of the gang leader when such moods took him. "What are we to do now?" he asked.

"I'll tell ye what we'll do: we'll make the slimy scum pay for the humiliation they have caused us. No creature does this to Vaniska and gets away with it!"

"But how do ye suppose we'll find 'em again? Those thieves are long gone. They won't be back in these parts again."

Vaniska snarled and shoved Wayta aside. Climbing up onto an outcrop of rocks, he motioned for Wayta and the others to join him. Sighing heavily, Wayta scrambled to his feet and climbed up the boulders to join Vaniska at his side. The others followed Wayta's lead, curious as to what Vaniska might have spotted.

In the distance they could see the ocean, and a dockyard bustling with activity. "That's where they'll be headed. Sure, the scum might have their robbers' den elsewhere, but down there is where they can sell and gamble our belongings away."

"So what do you intend to do, Vaniska?" Wayta asked nervously.

"You remember that village we had trouble with, Wayta?" Vaniska said, with a cruel smile that could have frozen a pond in high summer.

…

Jallgo was taking breakfast in his private gardens. It was one of the fox's favorite places to sit and while away the hours. From the gardens he could watch the comings and goings at the dockyard below. Everything here, from the ships at port to the taverns that dotted the seaside, were in one sense or another Jallgo's property. An ex-corsair, the fox had in his younger years been quite successful. He was able to retire, building up a port on the southern coast. It afforded him a comfortable life, free of many of the dangers of his past seafaring days.

Using a delicate silver knife to break a boiled woodpigeon egg, the fox smiled pleasantly. This was the only way for a creature to live out his golden years, away from the dangers of the high sea to live in comfort and luxury off the profits accumulated by financing other ships to carry out their own adventures.

His daughter Nicara interrupted Jallgo's reminiscing. The vixen was attempting to sneak away from the gardens unnoticed. Jallgo may have been well into his later seasons, but these efforts didn't escape his attention.

"Nica, where are you off to this early in the morning?" he called out to her.

Nicara cringed; how she detested that pet name her father used on her at every opportunity. "Father, I'm going for my morning stroll on the wharf. I understand the ship from Vinland arrived last night and I want to make sure the cargo is agreeable," she said, using all of her beauty and charm to try to win over her father. She knew how he wished her show more interest in the activities of the port, which their family controlled.

Jallgo finished off his boiled egg, placing his spoon on the platter so gently that it didn't make a sound. "Well, that's funny. The Swiftfang vessel is two days late. I haven't been informed of her arrival and I don't expect to see a sign of the Vinland flag for at least another two days. There are only two ships ole Mejas Swiftfang would send close to Mossflower. Judging by how late the vessel is, I will bet that blasted ferret sent _The Nixie_."

Nicara sighed, realizing her father would know better than to believe_ The_ _Nixie_ would ever arrive on time. Of all the vessels that used their port it never arrived as expected. "Oh, I must have been mistaken then. Silly me." She smiled and continued towards the path that led to the shore.

"Hold one moment, Nica," Jallgo warned. "I don't want you lurking around those taverns and barracks. Remember, you're a respectable young lady. Now go along, I can see you do not care to share your secrets with your own father."

Needing no second bidding, the vixen hurried down the path with an air of grace only a vixen could carry. Waiting until Nicara had a good head start, the old fox rang a small bell on his table. Within moments a tall sinewy fox appeared. From nose tip to tail he was a silvery gray, although this wasn't due to great age because the creature had yet to reach his middle seasons. He wore a black tunic trimmed with silver only emphasizing his colour distinction. Buckled to his side, a menacing looking blade, the hilt carved from the bone of a great sea creature. Standing at attention before Jallgo, he awaited his orders without uttering a single word.

"Ah, Konnal! Prompt as usual. I require you today for a most delicate matter."

Before Jallgo could even continue, the silver fox cut him off. "You want me to follow your daughter and ensure her reputation is not tarnished, sir."

Jallgo nodded. "Then you understand the delicate nature of this issue. You know what to do by now. Off you go."

The silvery fox swished his tail and, giving a polite bow, left his master to seek out Nicara. "I will not fail you, my lord," he promised as he took his leave.

Jallgo relaxed to enjoy the rest of his breakfast. With Nicara being watched by the loyal eyes of Konnal, he could deal with other matters at paw - namely, the issue of the Vinland ship's late arrival. Jallgo was deeply honored that, in attempts to strengthen the trade bonds between his port and Vinland, Mejas sent his fleet's flagship to make the delivery of cargo. _The Nixie_ was the pride and joy of Vinland, as was her Captain Killicia Swiftfang, only daughter to Mejas Swiftfang. Oh, how he wished he did not need to rely so heavily on trade with the western isle! Gazing out at the ocean, he mused aloud to himself, "Where has that blasted ferret gotten to?"

….

Konnal found Nicara rather easily. Tracking individuals is made that much simpler when the creature you're trying to track is waiting for you, he thought, smiling as he greeted the vixen. "Your father's worried about the consequences of your actions, m'lady. He requests I keep a watchful eye on you."

Embracing the silvery fox, Nicara smirked as she whispered into his ear. "I assure you, I will only partake in activities that will enhance my reputation at this port. Meanwhile, tell me more on how watchful your eyes will be on me."

"That is hardly proper to discuss with a lady, now, is it?" he said with a laugh, momentarily distracted by playful flicking of her vibrant red tail.

"Oh, humor me, Konnal," she cooed, pulling her father's trusted aide into the nearest tavern.


	11. Chapter 11: A Second Child

**Chapter Eleven **

**A Second child **

Under the heat of the midday sun, Tutsan lounged on the deck of The Morning Star in the company of Blodwen and young Kale. The babes lay on a an old rag quilt that Margie had carefully spread out for them to rest upon. Kale knelt carefully between the two infants, shaking a small rattle to amuse them. It was a simple toy made of two clam shells fused together and polished until they were smooth. The handle had been fashioned from drift wood, and many seasons back somebeast carved the images of seamonsters and other great fish, the carvings now worn from being held in many paws. The little rattle made a delightful noise each time Kale shook it. Alton watched his brother with wide eyes, smiling brightly; he had not yet realized where the rattling sound was coming from but he delighted in it. The little harebabe Letti was in fits of giggles as the otter kit played with them. Even Kale was enjoying himself; at last content with his younger sibling. Suddenly, Alton reached out his tiny webbed paw and snatched the shell rattle from Kale's grasp. Proud of his accomplishment, he shook the rattle, laughing all the more loudly, then began to suck on the smooth clam shells.

"Ewww! 'e's gotten it all slobbery!" Kale exclaimed, pulling a face as the infant's drool dribbled down the toy. "Bah! Gross babies!"

Seeing Kale make a face of disgust, Letti kicked her bandaged hind legs, trying in her infant way to imitate the otter's expression. This caused much amusement between the two hares.

"Keep doing that, Kale old lad - look at what the little maid is up to," Tutsan said, watching Letti gaze intently up at Kale for a new expression to mirror.

Needing no second bidding, young Kale continued making funny faces for the infant, watching as Letti tried her best to imitate him. Her little eyes squinted and her tongue stuck out as she sought to mimic the otter.

Little Alton continued to suck on the shell rattle, confused by all the merriment. He turned his head, giving Blodwen a confused look as if she would have all the answers. The Patrol healer tickled his footpaws and smiled down at the pair.

"A right little set of rouges, wot?" she remarked to Tutsan.

The hare Captain smiled nodding in agreement, watching as Letti wriggled to get closer to Alton. She wrapped herself around his rudder-like tail, clinging to it.

Skipper Derya bounded towards them, his brother in his wake. "Tutsan mate, ye better tell those cooks at Salamandastron to put a pot of shrimp 'n hotroot soup on for supper, 'cause we're going to have ye there by nightfall."

Tutsan stood up and gazed out on the horizon. "That close, eh? Good show! Compliments to ye and your crew, Derya." He continued to search for his mountain home but couldn't make out any glimpse of it.

Keelee bent close to the hare, whispering in the creature's ear. "Other side, Matey."

Turning wordlessly crossed to the other side of the vessel, Tutsan smiled broadly upon seeing the mountain of Salamandastron clear as day, standing proudly in the distance.

…..

Peony was taking her afternoon stroll with Bloomberry when she spotted the approach of her mother.

"Oh, this cannot be good," she said with a resigned sigh.

"Should I stay and help you 'fend her off, Peony?" offered Bloomberry. "I can call up some troops if you think you'll jolly well need them."

"No, Bloom, I don't think that will be necessary. You best make yourself scarce. I wouldn't want you mortally wounded by her sharp tongue."

Saluting comically, Bloomberry marched off, flashing a broad smile at Peony's mother when she passed. "Pleasant afternoon, Mem Samara."

Mem Samara turned to her daughter, looking over her shoulder and watching Bloomberry march off. "What great seasons has gotten into her? Honestly, the cheek of some of these creatures! I really must speak to Colonel Harden about that one. We can't have a gel like that spoiling the good name of the officer class."

"Oh, Mother, don't be so hard on Bloomberry." Peony tried to defer away from the topic of her friend, knowing full well her mother's dislike of the female officer.

"You should be choosing your friends more wisely. But enough of that matter. Have you heard any word from Tutsan as of late?"

Peony sighed, choosing her words carefully. "There is still no word from Tutsan, but Colonel Harden says not to worry myself over it."

"Humph, typical! Gets his wife pregnant, then jolly well vanishes off the face of the earth. What you saw in a scoundrel like that I don't know. Really, Peony, of all the handsome, well-bred bucks of Salamandastron, why Tutsan Linwood? If your father was still alive, he would hunt that wretch down and drag him back by the scut, mark my words, Peony."

Struggling not to bring her mother into another argument regarding her husband, Peony raised her paw to forestall further ranting from her Mother. "Was there something you wanted to tell me? Or did you just come out to insult my husband and the father of your grandchild?"

"Temper temper, Peony. I'm just looking out for my youngest's best interests. Actually, I did have a bit of news for you, my dear. The Officers' Wives Club wishes to host a welcoming party for the little one once he or she arrives. I just came to tell you it would be a luncheon out in the sitting area by the east herb garden. If you must, you may invite young Bloomberry, even though she isn't an officer's wife."

"No, she isn't an officer's wife - she's a blinkin' Captain," Peony pointed out, fighting to keep her voice level. The Officers' Wives Club was a private social club organized by a few of the older widows and wives of Long Patrol officers. The members had been civilian haremaids who married dashing officers and, upon arriving at Salamandastron, found themselves out of place. They were known to be snobby, pretentious, and elitist, earning a bad reputation throughout the mountain fortress. However despite their reputation no efforts had been made to disband the little club. Many of the long time residence of Salamandastron recognized the difficulty these harewives faced adapting to Long Patrol life. Owing to the age of most members, most believed it would fizzle out before needing to be formally disbanded. Peony like many younger wives, wanted nothing to do with their flighty tea parties and weekly meetings.

"Mother, why is it that you take every opportunity to speak ill of my husband, yet take great pleasure in inviting me to all your little club's activities. It is only because of Tutsan that I am an officer's wife at all?"

"Now now, Peony, mind yourself. You know full well that even if you had not married Linwood, you would be the wife of some other officer. A higher-ranking officer at that, I wish to remind you. Peony, you would have made a much nicer Missus Mullins, in my opinion."

"Oh, this takes the bally cake, mother! Me, with Bernie?" Sighing she tried to maintain a polite tone. "Please excuse me mother, and kindly tell your club friends I do not wish to have any fuss over the new addition to the family." With that, Peony went off in search of Bloomberry.

Bloomberry reappeared only a short distance up the walking path that circled Salamandastron. "So, how did it go?"

"The usual Officers' Wives Club rubbish," Peony said with a shrug as the pair made their way back home. Before they go to the entrance, Peony halted, clutching her stomach with a gasping.

"Peony, what's wrong?" Bloomberry said in alarm.

"I think the baby is coming," Peony said, her voice surprisingly calm.

Colonel Hardan and Oranna sat in the officer's mess, going over all the arrangements for the transfer of command to the new Badger Lady. There were also the details of the upcoming ceremony to be taken into consideration. Over biscuits and a pot of tea, the two of them worked on compiling a guest list for the event.

"We have to invite somebeast from Redwall Abbey. Should I address the invitation to Abbot Werth?" Oranna asked, placing the name at the very top of the parchment list.

Hardan relaxed back in his armchair, taking a sip of his tea. "Hmm, well, ye should send it to the Father h'Abbot, but it would be best to invite a representative party to h'attend the celebration rather than the h'Abbot himself. I have no doubt Werth would love t'hop down and partake in the party, wot wot. 'owever, I don't think Redwall will be able to give us a loan of the h'Abbot for the better part of the jolly ole season. Werth is a good mouse; I'm sure he'll send Redwall's Champion and the local Skipper of Otters. Oh, that reminds me: we had best invite the Skipper too." The old hare rummaged through some parchment he had arranged in a pile on the table. "Now wot the dickens is that chap's name? If memory serves me correctly, the old Skipper stepped down, giving the title to his son… but dash it, I can't seem to recall the chap's name."

Oranna started to help Hardan with the search but was interrupted by Bloomberry, who raced into the chamber panting hard.

"Colonel, it's Peony! She just went into labour, wanted me t' nip along an' fetch you." Placing her paws on her legs, she lowered her head till her long ears brushed the ground, trying to catch her breath. "Phew! It's been a long time since I did a spot of running. Came as quick as I could, though."

The elder hare practically leapt to his footpaws at the news. "Peony's having her young'un? Well, Bloom, no time to stand here chatting, m'gel. Take me to her, wot."

Saluting to Oranna, he bid a hasty goodbye. "'poligies, M'lady. Let's continue this in a bit, shall we? Perhaps I'll have remembered the name by then."

Nearly bowling over other beasts, the two hares made their way to Peony's chambers. They were soon met by an excited Lieutenant Aubery.

"Just got the jolly news, have you heard wots been buzzing around then? Peony is having her flippin' young 'un! I have to get there; I need to bally well know if I'm an uncle or an aunt ya' see."

Both Bloomberry and Hardan burst out laughing. "Whatever do you mean, Aubery?" Bloomberry asked as he fell into line with them.

"Well, the gender of the baby o'course. I need to know if it's a girl or boy so I know if I'm Nunky Aubery or Auntie Aubery. 'portant business this."

Hardan shook his head, placing a paw on the excitable hare's shoulders. "Aubery, laddie buck, you're an uncle either way."

"Oh. Oh, right." Aubery paused realizing his mistake.

The trio came to a halt in front of the Linwood chambers. Placing ears against the door, they listened, but could only make out muffled voices from within. After a long awkward silence Hardan, being the senior officer, took it upon himself to knock.

"Come in! The door is open," came the voice of Mem Samara.

"Perhaps I'll nip in later wot… you know, once the ole fire lizard has backed off," Aubery said, trying to sneak away.

"Not so fast, Lieutenant," whispered Hardan, catching Aubery by the ear. "Nunky Aubery is going to go in there, and be on your best behaviour…. even to Granny fire lizard."

The door opened slowly. Peony lay in bed, her mother seated at her side. Peony looked tired but beautiful, her soft smile broadening once she saw her friends.

"Colonel, Aubery and Bloom, there is someone here I want you all to meet." Turning the wrapped bundle in her arms, she beckoned them to come closer. "I want to introduce you all to Blythe Linwood."

The newborn leveret was watching the visitors curiously as they crowded around her. Quietly, she seemed to enjoy the attention as one by one she was carefully placed into their awaiting paws. Each in turn took hold of the little one, commenting on her beauty and how she resembled Peony one moment and Tutsan the next.

"What a beautiful young leveret. You're sure to have your paws full with this one when she gets a bit older," Hardan remarked as he fixed his monocle to his eye and took the harebabe in his paws. The infant stared up at the Colonel wide-eyed, not quite sure what to make of his monocle or heavily waxed whiskers.

"And how are you, Peony?" asked Aubery, feeling great concern for his sister-in-law.

"A little tired but fine. I think I may rest for a bit, then perhaps join you this evening for supper."

"Now now, don't ye worry about getting down to the mess for supper Marm. I'll arrange for a right proper scoff to be brought up to ye, Peony. Just rest for now, take it easy wot." Hardan passed back the babe to her mother's paws.

Peony sighed heavily rocking the small creature that nestled contently against her. "Colonel, has there been any sign of Tutsan as of late?"

Hardan smiled in his usual paternal fashion. "Never you fret, marm. That Tutsan of yours will be back before you know it." Winking to the harewife he turned attentions to the others. "Alright, you lot, back to duties. We can visit Blythe and Peony again later."

They bid Peony a pleasant rest then went on their way.

"I'm starting to worry about that brother of mine," Aubery said as they left the room. "Not like him to be gone so long."

"Don't talk like that, Aubery. Tutsan isn't the sort of chap to get himself in a bad fix. Not like you," Bloomberry joked.

"I don't like it either," Hardan said, spotting an approaching runner. "Now here's a fellow who looks to be on a mission. What do you have to report, laddie buck?"

The young hare saluted briskly. "I do have something to report, Sah. A ship has been sighted heading our way, Sah."

"A ship, you say?" Hardan couldn't recall any ships scheduled to arrive at Salamandastron, and he hoped it wouldn't be a vermin vessel. Last thing he needed was a threat to their shores. "Was she flying any colours, young fellah?"

"Oh yes, Sah, Watch said it looked like the flag of one of the northern otter tribes. They couldn't see the name on her but they believe it is a sea otter vessel. It should arrive in a few hours. What should I tell the Watch to do?" The runner looked eager to follow any command, given mountain life had been rather slow as of late.

Hardan thought for a moment then the idea struck him. "Aubery, arrange a welcome party for the vessel. Why don't ye take Bloomberry with ye, and a few of the younger rankers. Best arm yerselves just in case this vessel is crawling with filthy searats. If not, well, it never hurts to be a little showy, now does it? Off ye go now, toodle pip and all that rot. Young 'un, go with them and report back t'me as soon as you have more information about the vessel."


	12. Chapter 12: The Morning Star

**Chapter twelve**

**The Morning Star **

The Colonel and young Lady Oranna had reconvened in the officers' mess to continue working on the guest list. They had only been at it for about an hour when the young runner returned, saluting smartly and making a new report.

"Sah, Lieutenant Aubery sends his regards and this message." The young fellow produced from his runner's uniform a slip of parchment on which he'd scribbled the report. Taking a moment to read the words over in his head, he squinted at his own pawwriting. "The ship is a sea otter vessel, originating from the northern shore, according to the colours she's flying. As I told ye earlier sah. One of the watch identified her as _The Morning Star_. Their crew trades with some of the communities along the coast. The Lieutenant is lighting the torches down by our harbour to welcome the vessel. He estimates it should reach us within the hour. Are there any orders I should relay back to the watch, Sah?"

Hardan thought a moment, then shook his head. "No, no, it seems Aubery has everything jolly well sorted, rather surprised h'actually. Tell the chaps on watch that Lady Oranna and myself will join them shortly. If _The Morning Star_ docks before we come down, please wait for us before carrying on. Oh, and on yer way there would you swing by the kitchens and tell the cooks on duty we're expecting visitors? 'suppose a pot of that hotroot concoction otter folk favour so highly ought to be set out for 'em, wot wot? That is all, lad. Dismissed."

The runner saluted enthusiastically and took off down the hall to fulfill his task.

Oranna began packing up the scrolls and invitation drafts. "Well, I suppose we'd best get ready to greet our visitors. Colonel, is something wrong?"

The old hare stood staring at the draft guest list as if puzzling over something. "Oh, it's nothing, marm. Just the name of the ship tickled something in the ole noggen. Hmm... Morning Star, eh? Why the dickens is that ringing bells? Oh, got it! Starwold - that's the name of that Skipper of Otters. I knew I wasn't losing me touch for names, wot. Come along, M'Lady, best be off."

The hare stood fixing his uniform and fussing over his carefully waxed whiskers in the mirror. Oranna sat back in one of the armchairs, doing her best to stifle a giggle.

"I fail to see what is so funny, miss," Hardan said, pulling out his kerchief to polish the medals decorating his chest.

"Oh, I just find it funny how you haven't got a speck of dirt on you and yet you're nitpicking at just about everything."

"Well, with the stories these chaps tell woodlanders about us Long Patrol, I figure I ought to look the jolly old part." He offered Oranna his paw and escorted her to the harbour lookout post to await the vessel.

….

Evening was starting to settle over the coastlands as the Morning Star approached the harbour of Salamandastron.

Young Kale had been excused from his usual chores and baby minding, so that he could watch the ship pull into port at the legendary mountain fortress. He stood beside Tutsan, trembling with excitement and fear. His mother had often told him stories of Salamandastron and the warriors who lived there. Through the light of the torches lit on the beach, he could make out the ranks of hares awaiting the vessel's arrival. The light created strange shadows on the shoreline and reflected off the forged steel of the blades and lance tips the hares carried. The young sea otter felt as though he were sailing into a dream world. Kale had never met any hares before running into Tutsan's patrol. Eyeing the vast array of weapons, the thought occurred to him that perhaps not all hares were as friendly as Tutsan. He immediately dashed behind the hare, clinging to the hem of the Captain's uniform.

"What's the matter, young Kale me bucko? Ye have nothing t'fear from that lot. A load of flipping windbags, if y'ask me." He chuckled and leaned downward, gesturing to the young otter that he wanted to let him in on a secret. Looking about to see if anybeast was watching, he whispered in the otter's ear. "Truth be told, old lad, that lot are as soft as a jolly old feather pillow. All that pomp 'n' pageantry on the beach is just for show, dontcha know. Got to keep up a reputation, wot. Now, will ye look at that tall fellah in the front there?"

Tutsan gestured to indicate his brother Aubrey, whom he could make out standing in the front ranks. Kale followed his pointing paw and nodded.

"He used to suck his paw right up until he was made officer. Doesn't seem so scary now, does he?"

Kale giggled, picturing the smart-looking figure on the shoreline sucking his paw like a baby.

Tutsan was about to hail the troops on shore when Skipper came on deck a,look of urgency painted on his features.

"It's the hare babe! Come quickly!"

Nothing more needed to be said. Tutsan went into a dash towards the cabin where he'd left the infant sleeping. Bursting though the door, he found Margie soothing the distraught Alton while Blodwen cradled the coughing and sputtering Letti in her arms. Blodwen as always was the picture of sense and calm, never one to become flustered or panic while she worked. This was a sharp contrast to the reaction Tutsan was having. Fearing the worst, he rushed towards the child only to be pushed away by Blodwen.

"She needs air, Captain. The sooner we can get her to the infirmary in the mountain, the better. She's out of danger now, though. She started having a fit, but the worst of it is over. Gave little Alton here quite the scare. If it hadn't been for his crying, we might not have made it in time."

…..

Aubery watched as the ship loomed closer and closer. The selected hares stood at attention waiting orders, even though none suspected the vessel to be a threat of any kind.

"Ahoy to the ship! Identify yourselves!" he called out in his best Patrol manner.

Skipper leaned on the rail, calling out to the hares on shore. Not wanting to be outdone by the hares, he replied in his most formal tone, "This is the Morning Star. We bring news from the south on the orders of Captain Tutsan Linwood. The Captain and Corporal Blodwen have accompanied us. We also have a very sickly infant onboard who must be seen to immediately. Permission to land, sir."

"Permission granted!" Aubery said swiftly and nodded to the hares to catch the lines and help the vessel dock.


	13. Chapter 13: Return Home

**A/N**

**Wow, this story reached 100 viewers just a few days back. Pretty cool stuff, and a big thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read this little story. Only three more chapters left to book one, but don't worry there are still books two and three to read. **

**If you have any comments, questions, or suggestions please send along a little review or message me.**

**Thank you all for reading.**

**Killy**

**Chapter Thirteen **

**Return Home **

Word of a sick infant soon reached the ears of Salamandastron's infirmary keepers. By the time the Morning Star had docked, three medics stood ready. None of them knew what they might find, but seasons of training taught them to remain calm and be ready for anything that would come their way. Blodwen, cradling Letti, was the first to step ashore. No words were passed between healers as they quickly bore the ailing harebabe off to the hospital wing of the fortress. There was no need for explanation; it was as though they could read Blodwen's very thoughts, and with a few simple gestures they seemed to fully understand the entire situation.

The hares in the welcoming party cleared a path so the medics could pass easily. Tutsan, by contrast, had his way barred and blocked by a sea of creatures, each one anxious to be the first to tell him of his daughter and hear of his travels. Aubery shoved his way to the front of the group; being Tutsan's brother and uncle to Blythe, he saw it as his duty and privilege to share the news. However Tutsan wanted only to get to the infirmary. Ignoring his brother and the hares around him, he tried to escape the sea of joyous comrades on the beach. Once Skipper and the otter crew came ashore, many of the hares turned their attention to welcoming their visitors. Sea otters and the Long Patrol had a long history of friendships. Seeing this as the opportunity to make his escape to the infirmary, Tutsan attempted to sneak away, only to find that Aubery, Bloomberry and Colonel Hardan had also abandoned the welcoming crowd to follow at his heels.

"I believe congratulations are in order," Hardan declared with a smile, clapping Tutsan heartily on the shoulder.

"Beg pardon, Sah, but I believe that ought to be my job," Aubery said, catching up with his elder brother. "So, how does fatherhood feel, you old bounder?"

"Well enough, Aubery, but I really ought to get going," Tutsan said, trying to brush his brother off in his haste. There was a hint of annoyance about his features.

"Humph, I thought you would be the sort to bally well sing it from the rafters wot. Y'know tell all the blinkin' western plains and Mossflower that yer a Pater." Aubery sighed shaking his head at his older brother.

"Yes, I suppose ye are h'anxious to see Peony wot." Hardan added, trying to hold back the excitable Aubery.

Not missing a pace, Tutsan sighed heavily. "Oh, good grief! I forgot about Peony for a moment! I best tell her about the little one at once."

At this, Aubery and Bloomberry burst into laughter. "Oh dear, Tutsan. I thought a hare your seasons would jolly well know where babies come from by now," Aubery chuckled.

This comment was the last straw for Tutsan. With his brother's comments eating away at his patience, he turned and snapped, " Confound it Aubery! Can't y'see I'm in a flippin' hurry? Letti could be in serious distress. Goodness, old lad, smarten up and let me go to the child."

"Who's Letti?" the other three asked in near-unison.

"The leveret who was just whisked away to the infirmary. Wot did you think I was talking about?"

Aubery shrugged innocently. "I dunno. I thought ye were talking about Blythe, the babe yer wife just gave birth to. No need to get snaky old lad."

Tutsan paused, blinking. "You mean to tell me ... ?"

Bloomberry explained. "Your wife had a baby while you were away. We've been trying to tell you for absolute ages that she was pregnant, but we had no way to get word to you."

"You're a rather slippery character, dontcha know." Aubery grinned, unable to resist an extra dig at his brother.

Hardan glared at Aubery to silence him. "Tutsan, ye best course of h'action would be to go to the infirmary immediately wot. I'll see to it that Peony is notified of your arrival. Don't let us hinder you any longer, wot. Now get going, Tutsan - and that's an order!"

While Tutsan was being delayed by his friends, Peony and baby Blythe had already made their way to the hospital wing. Ever the organized one, Blodwen filled Peony in on the events that led to Letti arriving at Salamandastron. The babe had just settled down into her new mother's paw when Tutsan burst in.

"How is she?" he cried out, nearly colliding with Blodwen in his haste to get to Letti.

The slam of the door startled both infants, triggering a duet of high pitch waling. Twitching her ears, Peony held the upset Letti close, trying to soothe her. "Well, she was peaceful until you barged in like a scalded duck." Her expression softened as she playfully joked with her husband. "Goodness me, Tutsan, when you promised to help with the young 'uns, I didn't expect you to go out and get one yourself! Always the thoughtful one you are, saving my old back from having to lug another jolly ole infant around in my belly."

She tenderly kissed the bewildered hare's cheek and placed Letti in his paws.

"She is a beautiful little maid, Tut. And now, with you home safe, I couldn't have asked for a finer family."

Tutsan blushed a little around the eartips and held his adopted daughter close. "Aw, well, there's no need for all that. Just doing m'duty, y'know, to ye, Salamandastron and now the little ones."

Peony winked at Blodwen, taking Blythe to be presented to her father. "Isn't he the noble old solider, wot? Now, my dashing Captain, may I present your other daughter, Blythe Linwood." She held out the little leveret so Tutsan could have a good look at her. Exchanging babes, Peony retrieved the frail haremaid holding her close and watching as Tutsan held his latest bundle of joy.

Blythe looked up curiously at her father, blinking several times as if unsure what to make of the hare peering down at her. Tutsan felt paternal joy welling up within him, and coughed in an effort to hide the tears dewing up his eyes. This babe was so much like Letti and yet so different. Most notably there was the size difference between the two. Blythe was a chubby little baby with fat little cheeks that looked as though they would engulf her entire face. Letti was tiny, quite frail-looking compared to her sister.

Blodwen chuckled to herself as she watched the proud parents doting on their daughters. "Seasons save the first lad who takes a fancy to either of them!"

….

Nicara slipped though the side gate, returning home from another day at the taverns. Distressing rumours had been spreading, and the vixen intended to get to the bottom of it. Many a time her father had posed the question of marriage. Being the daughter of one of the richest foxes known to the southern coast had made Nicara one of the most sought after vixens. Jallgo had received interest and inquiries from possible suitors from all over Mossflower and well beyond. Nicara had made it quite clear that of all her fathers' business dealings, marriage was the one thing she wished no part of. Rumours now flew that Jallgo had arranged for one of the eager suitors to come meet Nicara. Word at port was the arrogant aristocrat Romlan de'Gorge was to arrive within the next few days.

Bursting into her father's study, Nicara pointed an accusing paw at the aged fox, who sat peacefully studying the current trade routes on his charts.

"How dare you go behind my back and do such a thing as this!" she sneered at him, hurling a pot of ink to the floor. The black liquid oozed into the floorboards, drawing not so much as a raised eyebrow from Jallgo; he'd long ago grown accustomed to his daughter's fiery temper.

"Daughter, what is it now that distresses you?" he asked, not looking up.

"You know well enough. How dare you try to barter me off like one of your crates down on the dock! What am I, one of your shipments of exotic spices to go to the highest bidder?" Her tail bristled as she spoke, flaring out with her anger.

Looking up from the map, Jallgo shook his head, sighing heavily. "Nicara, I will not be around forever to see to your happiness. And one day all of this will be yours. But it is far too much for a single vixen to control on her own. You need a strong mate to protect you and your family holdings. That is why I sent for Romlan. He is a good fox, well bred and educated. He can care for you as you deserve. Like I said, I cannot do it forever. Give the fellow a chance. He is most anxious to meet you."

"I'll bet he is," Nicara said disdainfully.

"He is set to arrive in a few days. I had wanted to keep it a surprise. Please, Nicara, at least try to make this work. I don't ask you to fall in love with him when first setting eyes on him, but try to be approachable, and keep that temper of yours in check. If not for your sake, then for mine. You will like this fellow, I promise."

With a sudden mood change, Nicara smiled and kissed her dear old father on the cheek. "I'm sure the arrival of de'Gorge will be a most welcomed sight. And I shall be sure to remember to think of that day as the happiest in my life."

"I'm glad you are finally talking sense, Nicara. Then you agree that marriage is the best action to undertake? You won't be young and pretty forever."

"I'm starting to see how marriage may be of benefit, Father." Curtseying low, Nicara exited, a broad smile growing on her face. Closing the door behind her, she darkly muttered, "Oh father, you old fool. I fear the time for your passing is approaching sooner than you think. "

….

Vaniska realized that if he was to destroy this port town, it would take a lot more planning than the destruction of the farming community. While they camped outside close to the forest edge, Vaniska would send one of his gang in to snoop around and find out all they could. The task the young fox had set out to do seemed impossible. There was activity almost all the time, creatures about all hours of the day. If he was to sneak his gang in and set fire to the place, it was almost certain someone would raise the alarm. Wayta had spotted armed guards around the large fortified building that was the residence of the fox Jallgo. This in itself posed a new problem Vaniska had not had to face before. However, the repeated sightings of the Easlew family fired his thirst for revenge.

Sneaking into the town himself, Vaniska lurked around the taverns, trying to gain valuable information that might at least help him get back at the weasel brothers. Little did he know, Vaniska wasn't the only one spying that night.

Konnal was settled in another dark corner with Nicara at his side. Together, the two foxes kept a close eye on Vaniska as he wandered in, staying to the shadows as much as possible and trying to go unnoticed.

"It's another of the ragtag gang that has been hanging around the last few days. Wonder what he's doing here?"

"I don't know, Konnal, but he doesn't look like much of a threat. Yet he may be of use to us. Go talk to him find out what you can about him and the rest of the fleabitten ditch divers. If he proves to be the simpleton he appears, we may be able to use him to fix this de'Gorge issue." Nicara smirked and nodded that Konnal should go immediately to the stranger.

Grinning wickedly, Konnal rose from their table to approach Vaniska. He flashed a mock friendly smile to the fox bandit. "Well hello there, traveler! What brings you to these parts?"

Vaniska looked fit to jump out of his fur when the silvery fox approached him. " Er, nothing."

"Oh, come now, mate. You don't mean to tell me you're here for nothing. By the look of you, I'll wager you've journeyed a long way. I always fancy a good yarn. Why not sit and tell me a bit o' your story. I'll even buy you a drink as fair payment."

Vaniska was weary of Konnal, but at the offer of a drink the young fox found it hard to refuse. After all, he had travelled a long way without anything but river water to drink and whatever he could find for supper. "All right. Sounds fair to me."

Vaniska followed Konnal to a table only a short distance from Nicara. Konnal signalled one of the barmaids, calling out, "Bring two of your finest over this way. Put it on my tab."

A pretty young stoat smiled. "As ye like, Konnal." She returned quickly with drinks for the foxes.

Drink in paw, Vaniska began to feel at ease with this strange white fox. Surely a fellow who buys strangers drinks couldn't be all bad.

"The name's Konnal, and what is yours, my good sir?"

"Vaniska. Sure, you haven't heard of it yet, but soon everybeast will know it."

"Oh, so are you an up and coming Corsair then, Vaniska?" Konnal asked, for the town had seen their fair share of would-be swashbucklers.

"Oh, no Konnal, I don't much fancy the sea. It's the land I have interest in."

"Oh, a robber then. I thought you had the cut of a highwayfox," Konnel said, taking a deep drink.

Narrowing his eyes as he remembered his hatred of the Easlews, Vaniska shook his head. "No, I will one of these days be known and feared as the greatest warlord in Mossflower country."

"Well, begging your pardon, Vaniska, but don't you need an army to be a warlord?"

Frowning at Konnal, Vaniska continued. "I have a gang already. Sure, we only number a few right now, but we have been successful so far."

"How so?" the white fox inquired. This Vaniska was proving to be far more interesting then he first thought.

"Well, we came up against this village a while back. Didn't give us what we wanted, so we burnt them to the ground. You don't need many creatures to do it if you strike at the right time. Saves the fighting and the arms. Just lock the doors and light it up. Let the fire do the work for you. We got them all, down to every male, female and child."

Konnal looked surprised, and for a moment thought Vaniska might be lying about the event. But by the malicious gleam in the young fox's eye, Konnal knew it had to be true.

"So what brings you here, Vaniska?"

"Just looking to expand my numbers. Thought this may be a good place to recruit help," Vaniska lied.

"Really. I think we may be able to accommodate one another there. Listen, Vaniska, there is a friend I want you to meet." Waving for his previous companion to join them, he made introductions. "Vaniska, this is Nicara."

The vixen sat herself beside Vaniska, watching the youth's jaw drop. Nicara was the most beautiful creature Vaniska had ever seen. She carried herself with such elegance and grace, Vaniska could scarcely breath in such close quarters to her.

While Vaniska gawked in a dreamlike state, Konnal and Nicara held a whispered conference.

"So, Vaniska, Konnal tells me that you are quite the up and coming commander," Nicara said, her voice smooth as silk.

Vaniska nodded dumbly, to which Nicara smiled. This was exactly the fellow she needed.

"Listen, I need a fellow like you to help me. Trust me, Vaniska, if you stick with me I can see to it that you become quite powerful."

"How powerful?" Vaniska asked, wondering how this beautiful vixen might be able to help him.

"Trust me, Vaniska, you'll be far stronger than you ever could imagine. Listen carefully to me. I need you to lie low for the time being. Then, when the time is right, I will signal to you and your band to come into the town and do what it is you do best. We will burn our enemies to the ground, then take what is left as ours."

Vaniska nodded. "My creatures are camped just outside the town. You can call on us at any time, Nicara."

"No, Vaniska, I cannot go to you personally. I will be needed here. I will send Konnal for you when the time is right. Just be ready." Nicara looked about to see if any creature was watching them. Everybeast in the tavern knew better then to spy on Nicara's dealings. "You'd better go now, Vaniska. I will see you soon."

Sighing heavily, the young fox reluctantly left, beaming with excitement. At last it seemed things were looking up for him.

Konnal turned to Nicara. "And just what plans do you have for that half wit?"

"He's my ticket out of here, Konnal. I'll have him cause a distraction while I rid myself of my meddling father and fiancé."

"Then what?"

"Then the fun begins, Konnal - just you wait and see."


	14. Chapter 14: To Be a Warlord

**Chapter fourteen**

**To Be a Warlord.**

Vaniska could not believe his good fortune. The fates were surely smiling upon the young fox this night. A wicked grin crept across his muzzle as he thought of what the future may bring. He would have a proper army at his command, with the strength and numbers to overcome any force that dared oppose him. Then the smirk broadened as he thought of the vixen Nicara. Vaniska had never really thought much of females before, but this one was different. As he returned to camp he vowed he would have her for his own.

Wayta busied himself sharpening sticks with stones. Since their weapons had been robbed, he tried to make some sort of alternative. He greeted Vaniska, eager to hear any news from the port town.

"Did you find anything else about their numbers? Any more sightings of those accursed weasels?" he eagerly inquired of the fox.

"No, even better, Wayta. I found an ally to our cause, somebeast who will help us raze the place to the ground without starting an alarm. And things will only get better after that."

Rakam the weasel had been listening in on the conversation while he gnawed away at some roots he'd collected for his supper. "What makes you suppose that, Vaniska?" he said doubtfully.

Scowling Rakam's way, Vaniska turned to his ragtag gang, announcing excitedly, "How and why I know these things are for me alone to understand. The rest of you are to lie low until a fox that calls himself Konnal comes to us. When he arrives, be ready to strike."

Lowering his voice, he sneered at Rakam, "I am growing tired of your lack of faith, weasel."

Rakam shrugged and spat out the roots. "Well, I grow tired of living in this squalor, fox." Getting to his feet, he pulled himself up to his full height. "An' I 'ave a feeling I'm not the only one."

A mutter of agreement came from some of the gang.

Smirking, Rackam advanced on Vaniska. "We're sick and tired o' living in filth. Yew promised us food for our bellies and enough plunder for all o' us. And since we started with yew, we haven't seen anythin'. So why should we believe yew, Vaniska? I think it's time for a new leader."

Wayta snarled. "And who are ye suggesting, Rakam? Yerself?"

Turning on Wayta, he nodded. "An' why not? Seems t'me I could do a far better job than Vaniska has."

Vaniska looked upon his gang, concern flooding his features as he saw the nods of agreement. "So ye would follow Rakam instead of me. Rakam, who cowers in the corner and does nothing but complain."

Rakam laughed, turning to his fellow gang member. "And what 'as Vaniska done for us? Are we living the high life? No, we're nothing more than a load of beggars in the streets, worse off than we was when we even started. If I was leader…."

He didn't even get a chance to finish. Wayta crept wordlessly behind Rakam and ran him through with one of his sharpened sticks. The point erupted from the weasel's middle, dark blood oozing down his stained tunic. Pulling the bloodied branch from the weasel's back, he held it aloft for all to see, kicking the corpse aside.

"Anyone else fancy getting lippy this night?" There was not a sound from the assembled creatures. "I didn't think so. Get rid o' that body and wait for this Konnal creature."

Vaniska looked stunned at Wayta, who seemed unfazed by the cold-blooded killing. "Ye didn't have to go to that extreme, Wayta."

"Didn't I? Vaniska, the gang is ripe for a rebellion. Rakam was the first to try anything, but all of them feel the same way. I 'ope for yer sake this scheme of yers works. If not, I won't be around to protect your hide any longer."

Saying nothing more, Wayta went to find himself a comfortable sleeping spot on the ground, leaving Vaniska alone in the cold of night to wonder whether another of Wayta's sticks had his name on it.

It would be a long night for Vaniska. The cold air bit into the young fox's flesh as he curled up wrapped, in his cloak. "Hardly a fitting state for a warlord," he muttered under his breath.

Shutting his eyes tightly, Vaniska tried to think of all the good things that would come to him. More importantly, about the vixen Nicara. Dreaming of riches, the fox slowly drifted into slumber.

…

Sleep was the last thing on Nicara's mind. There was still a lot of work to be done if her plan was to work out accordingly. By the light of a single lantern, Nicara and Konnal plotted up in Nicara's chamber. Konnal still harbored reservations about the vixen's plans, and didn't hesitate to voice his concerns openly.

"Nicara, there is no way you can get rid of your father and this de'Gorge fellow the same day."

"Oh, ye of little faith, Konnal! Not only will I rid myself of them, I will move us off this forsaken coast to a more fitting abode." She smiled wickedly, unclasping the bangles and beaded necklaces she wore and replacing them into their wooden box. "All I have to do is call in a favour or two. When de'Gorge arrives, Father will no doubt invite him to greet me. I want you to steal one of Father's blades and sneak it to my chambers."

Pacing around the chamber, she tried to find a good hiding spot for the weapon. Turning her eyes to the lavish four-post bed with the mountain of silk pillows, she grinned. "Put the blade under the pillows. I'll invite de'Gorge up to my champers for private introductions. I have yet to meet the fox who could resist such an offer."

Konnal snorted lightly, to which the vixen frowned. Ignoring his wordless remarks she continued outlying her plan.

"Once I kill de'Gorge, I need you to collect the body and follow me to Father's study. I will then dispose of Father and we will lay the blame on de'Gorge. Something about him not agreeing with the terms and poisoning him. With his dying breath he slays de'George." Going to a small chest, Nicara took out a scroll. "I've taken the liberty of drafting a new will on Father's behalf, one that will bequeath to me alone all of his holdings."

"That's all well and good, but de' Gorge isn't travelling alone, Nicara."

"That's where that half wit fox comes into it. We'll have him set some of the storehouses on fire and lay the blame on de' Gorge's crew. Once word gets out, the crew won't want to put up a fight; we number far too many for them. They'll put to sea and try to outrun the fleet. This is where I call in a favour. You remember Bittail the Searat, whom I discovered was selling my Father's goods and claiming they were lost at sea?"

Konnal nodded slowly.

"Well, I saved his hide from dangling on the end of a noose so he is greatly indebted to me. I'll have him and his slimy crew bore holes in de'Gorge's ship so that when they try to flee they won't be getting too far. By the time that vessel clears the harbor, she'll be halfway to the sea bed."

"But what if they don't run?"

"Then I'll have my father's creatures kill them then and there. Or if I have to I will cut them down myself. Although, if on the odd chance they don't sail off, I'm sure a visit from a beautiful vixen and a barrel of strong Sampetra rum will please them. Pity the whole lot will be poisoned."

Konnal attempted a laugh, but his mouth had become dry with talk of treachery and destruction.

…

After a barrage of well wishes and congratulations, Tutsan and Peony were finally given the opportunity to retire. The two infant leverets had drifted in and out of sleep during the journey back to their chambers. Peony tucked them into the cradle together and lovingly drew up the blanket. While the new hare mother fussed over their babes, Tutsan went straight to the washbasin. Removing his travel-worn uniform, he washed the grit and grime from his neck and ears. Satisfied with his state of cleanliness, he changed into his nightshirt. Pulling back the blankets on the bed he shared with his wife, Tutsan stretched, smiling at the luxuries of sleeping in his own bed tonight. From where he lay he watched Peony groom herself for bed. She was as beautiful as the day he first was introduced to her. He wondered if she even knew how beautiful she was, as he watched her sitting at the vanity brushing the velvety fur of her ears. The way she fussed over any stray whiskers, the way she twitched her nose as she concentrated. Perhaps she did, perhaps that was why she always took longer getting ready for bed when Tutsan was home.

Smiling her perfect smile, the one that could melt Tutsan and perhaps any other male hare in a heartbeat, she settled into her side of the bed

With a heavy sigh of contentment, Tutsan gazed up at the ceiling and drifted into sleep. But this wasn't to last long, for a short hour later the shrill cry of infants welcomed him to the other joys of parenthood.

…

Nicara had not taken a pause in her preparations to sleep. All her most valuable belongings had carefully been packed up and made ready to move at a moment's notice. She had taken careful inventory of everything in her father's storehouses. Dockpaws were ordered to move the expendable goods to the buildings she planned on burning. The vixen carefully calculated the number of fighting creatures and seaworthy vessels at port; double-checking the cargos, she determined the space in the holds, and how many creatures would be able to be taken aboard. Nicara had no intention of staying at her father's dockyards; she had her eye on far better things, beyond the realms of the coast. She had listened to her father's creatures speak of fierce wild lands to the north. Creatures there would follow any beast's banner for the right price. With a taste for the exotic and dangerous, Nicara stole her father's charts and took to studying them, learning what she could about these strange lands and how they might benefit her.

While she read over the charts by candlelight, Konnal intruded upon her studies. The silvery fox panted hard as he crossed the threshold to her chambers.

"They have arrived, Nicara. de'Gorge's ship has arrived."

Turning, the vixen surveyed her lover's exasperated appearance without the slightest hint of emotion. "Call on Vaniska. He must prepare his band for their task. Tell them to light the storehouses only when I give the signal. They are to start their attack when I appear on my balcony tomorrow night."

Peering back at the charts, she allowed herself a small smile. "And, Konnal - if you make a mistake, I will not be pleased."

Konnal approached Nicara, kneeling at her side and taking the vixen's paw. He kissed it tenderly then he spoke. "I would never let you down, my lady. When de'Gorge is disposed of, it would please me if you would honour me…."

Nicara cut his proposal off abruptly. "Konnal, I have had a change of heart about the events to take place. Instead of the charade where Father slays de'Gorge, I want Vaniska to be the hero."

Rising to his paws, Konnal gritted his teeth at his beloved's coldness. "But, why?"

"Because he's a half-wit. Do you honestly think I would accept you as a mate, Konnal? I don't need males who pretend they are my equals at my side. Now be gone, and if you must mope, do it quietly. There is far too much at stake now."

….

Romlan de'Gorge was well known amongst his kind for his snobbery and eccentric tastes. His ship was a floating palace designed for comfort above all else. There were detailed carvings on every inch of deck rail and entryway. In order to add to the ship's splendor, Romlan commissioned three vixen figureheads to grace the bow of the ship. The crew had been picked by Romlan's paw - none noted for their fighting skills, but every member of the fox crew had some family connection to the de'Gorge clan.

Romlan de'Gorge looked upon the town for the first time, sniffing with disdain. "Well, it isn't much to look at. But if this Nicara is anything like her reputation, I shall forgive this homely port of its shortcomings." Tapping his silver-tipped walking stick on the deck, he greeted his cousin Reginald Goregeo as the younger fox swaggered towards him, fussing with his silk waistcoat. Reginald's approach was preceded by the strong smell of his sickly perfume.

"So this is the filthy little village you have dragged us too," Reginald complained in his shrill voice.

"I'll admit it wasn't what I expected," Romlan sighed. "But look! They have sent out a welcome party."

Fixing a golden monocle to his eye, Reginald sniggered as he viewed the party on the wharf. "Not much of a greeting, Cousin. Oh well. Must we go greet these commoners?"

"If you have no wish to come ashore, I'll not force you. I have no intention of staying long myself. Just long enough to make the proper arrangements and sail home with that vixen at my side." He gestured to Nicara, who stood alongside her father on the pier. She was dressed in an elegant blue gown that made her stand out amongst all others. The fabric flowed freely as if it was a part of her, as the gentle breeze picked up the long sleeves fluttering behind her, giving her an almost heavenly appearance.

Reginald pretended not to be amused. "She looks more like a peasant to me." But the remark fell on his Cousin's deaf ears as Romlan went to greet his future in-laws.

Jallgo made a half bow, which Romlan politely returned. "Lord de'Gorge, it is an honour to have you here with us."

"The honour is all mine, I assure you," Romlan replied, unable to tear his eyes away from Nicara.

This obvious and instant attraction pleased Jallgo immensely. Skipping further introductions, he nodded towards Konnal. The silvery fox was doing all he could to resist strangling the visiting lord with his bare paws.

"Konnal, why don't you show Romlan de'Gorge to our manor? I'm sure he does not wish to continue our conversation out here."

Without a word, Konnal started for the estate, not caring if Romlan was following or not.

Nicara walked beside Romlan, glancing back at the ship and noting that only Romlan came ashore. "Do none of your crew travel with you?" she asked, her voice carrying a childish innocence that made Romlan's heart melt and Konnal cringe.

"Why should they, my sweet? I have nothing to fear from a beautiful vixen like you, and I don't wish to involve them in my personal affairs."

Nicara allowed herself a sweet laugh. Oh, what an idiot Romlan was proving to be!


	15. Chapter 15:To Love They Father

**Chapter Fifteen:**

**To Love Thy Father**

Arriving back at the estate, Jallgo and Romlan excused themselves to talk about the monetary agreement of the union in private. Nicara excused herself from the proceedings and began to ascend the stairs towards her chambers, gesturing that Konnal should discreetly follow.

"Is everything in order?" she asked once they were out of earshot.

"Vaniska and his gang are in place and awaiting yer command. The sooner this is over with, the better." The silvery fox looked doubtful. His paw clutched and unclutched the bone handle of his blade nervously.

"What's the matter, Konnal? Not liking mister Fancy Pants down stairs? Never fear; the aggravating idiot will be rid of shortly. Now, when they are done bartering my life away, I want you to keep de'Gorge busy while I have a private word with my father."

"It would be my pleasure," Konnal said wickedly.

Taking out a vile of clear liquid, Nicara shook the contents. "Once I've poisoned Father, I want you to make sure everything is going as planned. We need the fires to go off without a hitch and the ship to leave port."

She slipped a second vile into Konnal's paw. "If by chance the crew doesn't leave, slip this into a barrel of drink and offer it as a gift. Surely that will work if all else fails. Now I must arrange for de'Gorge's fancy vessel to be seen to properly. We don't want them getting too far, now do we?"

….

Nicara knew where to find the very creature she was looking for. Bittail the old searat sat slumped in the back of the grog house, his mug clutched tightly in his scarred paws. Creeping up on the creature, Nicara smiled as she slid into the seat beside him.

"What do ye want now, vixen?" the old rat grumbled, although he had grown accustomed to the vixen calling on favour.

"Only a small favour this time, Bittail. I'm sure you will oblige. After all, you know I may just have to mention a few things to daddy if you say no." Nicara's words were as sweet as honey, but carried a bee's sting. She cupped a dark paw under her chin her lashed eyelids slowly rising and falling as she watched the withered old rat.

Scowling,Bittail sneered at her, thumping his mug down and crossing his paws across his tattooed chest. "Let's hear it then."

"I need you to drill a few holes in the bottom of that fancy ship de'Gorge arrived in. If you do this before nightfall, I will consider all misdeeds against my father as though they never occurred."

"Before nightfall…a bit of a tall order. That's gonna cost you more than a clean slate, Nicara."

Grinning, Nicara pulled out a small purse she wore tied to her belt. "You drive a hard bargain, rat. Take that as a starters, and when the job is finished you can take from my father's store house enough goods and plunder to fill your cargo holds."

"Ye must really hate this fella," Bittail laughed, taking the purse. "Ye 'ave a deal then. I'll get the crew on it right away. And never y' fear, missy. Those fancy foxes won't know what hit 'em."

….

Returning home with a sense of accomplishment, Nicara was pleased to find that the meeting between her prospective husband and her father had concluded. Smiling at both foxes, she passed secretive glances towards Konnal. Turning to de'Gorge, she made a gentle curtsy, elegantly bowing her head.

"Sir, would you grant me a moment alone with my father?"

"But of course, my dear. I'm sure you have much to talk about." Romlan took her paw and kissed it, then left Nicara and Jallgo alone in the office.

"You have become far more pleasant since de'Gorge has arrived," Jallgo said, reclining in his chair. He sat with his back overlooking the docks that had brought his little outport such wealth. The old dog fox held a look of patient satisfaction, as his paws ran down the smooth wood paw rests of his chair.

Nicara went to the small oak cabinet at the far side of the room. Within Jallgo stored samplings of the finest wines and brandies. Her paw trailed over the neat script labels on each flask and bottle. Selecting a dark damson wine she knew her father couldn't resist she prepared drinks for the pair of them, slipping the poison into one goblet unnoticed. "Yes, well, I'm realizing how his arrival will bring about a new chapter in my life, Father. A far more prosperous one, I'm sure."

"I'm glad you feel this way, Nicara. He has already fallen for your charms, I must say. It pleases me greatly to see you this happy. I have tried to give you everything I can, but all I've ever wanted is to make you happy." Jallgo accepted the goblet tipping it in silent toast to his beloved offspring.

"Oh, but you have made me happy, Father." Nicara smiled, sipping from her goblet, trying to encourage Jallgo to do the same.

"I know it has been hard for you here. Growing up without a mother in this place has always seemed to make you unhappy. But now I can give you what you always wanted: a proper manor where you will be treated like a princess, as you deserve. Oh, Nicara, I should never have let you be shrouded by the ships and noisy taverns. There were times when I heard the sea calling me back, but I ignored it all in favour of you." The old fox blinked away tears, sniffing a little. "If only your mother could see the fine fox you're about to marry."

"Oh, Father, you have been so good to me all these seasons. Please don't cry. Let us toast to the most wonderful father a vixen like me could ever have dreamed of." She clinked her goblet to her father's.

Jallgo smiled. "Hearing you say that, Nicara, is the finest thing a father could ever hear. And I will drink to you, my greatest achievement and the one thing that has gotten me though so many dark days." He drained the goblet in one go; there was a muffled choking noise, then nothing. The body of Jallgo slumped in his chair, and Nicara knew it was over.

Taking the goblet from her father's paw, Nicara sighed. "Oh, Father, I almost feel guilty about killing you. Never you fear; even in death you will help me achieve what I want."

She left the room, only to be greeted by Konnal with a bruised and bloody corpse of Romlan de'Gorge in his grasp. Frowning, Nicara kept her voice low lest she alert anybeast.

"What is the meaning of this?" She gestured frantically towards the dead body.

"He started it…carrying on about you and this wedding nonsense. So I decided to…"

"I told you not to kill him. Well, no matter - what's done is done. Hide him somewhere until Vaniska has done his work. And try to follow my instructions more clearly from now on."

Things were running far earlier than expected; it was still daylight outside and the fires needed to be set before anyone discovered the absence of de' Gorge or Jallgo. Standing in her balcony, Nicara lit a lantern and waved it high, hoping one of Vaniska's crew would catch the signal.


	16. Chapter 16: End of an Age

**A/N Here it is the end of Book One. I'm going to take a day or two off putting up chapters, but never fear Book Two: Passages will be up before you know it. Please take a moment to review, I would love to know what you think about the story so far, what could be improved upon, what you like, etc. Thank you to everyone who has taken the time to read. Now without further delay I think it's high time I post a chapter with the one thing ever good fic needs….one legged pirates!**

**Chapter Sixteen**

**End of an Age**

Aboard _The Nixie_, Jack - a large burly searat - was checking the ration supplies in the hold. Using seacoal and a scrap of parchment, he jotted in shortpaw what the ship would have to stock up on once they reach port. "Well water is running low, and most of the bread is not fit. Good thing we should make land before nightfall." Finishing his list, he returned to the deck in search of the Captain. The crew's twin weasels- Rapp and Ripp leaned casually on the deck with fishing rods, waiting for a bite.

The searat called out to them. "Now, b'ys, yer not going t'catch anything this time of day."

"Ye never knows." replied Rapp of the brothers.

"Yeah, there might be sommat out there," said Ripp.

"Have it yer way." Leaving them at their attempts, he went to the Captain's quarters and entered without knocking.

Sitting on the floor was a young ferretmaid hardly into her tenth season. She wore a smock-like dress that had been cut far shorter then it ought to have been, so much so that it pulled high up on her legs that stuck out in front of her. One bore soft, light brown fur like the rest of her; the other was carefully carved of a rich exotic wood to mimic the appearance of a real leg. This prosthetic was far from the crude peg legs worn by others; this was a fully functioning work of art. The young maid paid no notice to Jack, occupying herself with the antics of two small hermit crabs that crawled around where she sat.

"Y'know, Killy, if rations run much lower I may just 'ave to throw the two of them into a pot." he rat chuckled, grinning wickedly.

Scooping up the tiny creatures, the ferretmaid placed them back in their crate, glaring at Jack. "You will do no such thing. I thought we went over this already. Monty and Tego here are part of the crew, not food. I believe I established that they are First Mate Monty and Bosun Tego, and official roommates to the Captain."

"Killy, hermit crabs cannot be part of the crew. 'sides, I'm the First Mate and Bogbean is the Bosun."

"Well, last I checked I'm the Captain, so I can decide who becomes what." The young ferret winked at her first mate." But seeing as neither crab can talk, I'll let you and Boggy hold the jobs for now."

Laughing, the rat shook his head. "Killicia Swiftfang, yer a foolish creature."

Stooping over she awkwardly brought herself to balance on her hind paws. Taking a seat on her bed, she smiled sweetly. "And you're only noticing this now, Jack? So, we're going to make it to Jallgo's harbour tonight, you think? Like the dress I picked out for going on shore?"

She hopped up from her bed and twirled around on her wooden leg. In order to let the rat have a full view or the garment she so highly prized. Jack couldn't recall how she had acquired such a thing, although he seemed to recognize bits and pieces of an old tunic stitched in with what looked like an old set of curtains.

Straight-faced, the rat replied, "Change into something a little more appropriate before we dock."

"Gee, thanks, Da," the maid grumbled. Crossing her paws in front of her narrow chest and sticking her lower lip out in a pout.

"'Ey, now, none o' that lip. You may be the Captain but this is still your fader's ship and he told me to look out fer you. An' I'm not having no daughter of Skipper Swiftfang prancing around in a port tavern dressed like that. Bad enough I let you go to a tavern at all. A maid your age shouldn't be drinking." Jack lectured her coldly.

"You're such a spoilsport, Jacky. You never let me do anything."

"That's because I don't fancy bringing you back to your Father in a box or worse. Now get changed into something pretty, and make ready to meet ole Jallgo." Turning he left her in the cabin shaking his head at the ferretmaid's antics.

"Blah! Stuffy foxes!" Killicia complained, closing the door behind Jack.

The searat wasn't gone two minutes when Bogbean the weasel - usually referred to as Boggy - approached him.

"We got some trouble, Jack."

Heaving a heavy sigh the rat looked about to see what had happened."What do you mean?"

The weasel beckoned Jack to follow as he led him to a section of deck where most of the crew stood in a huddle.

"The twins just hauled a fox up outta the water. He says Jallgo's harbour is burning up and old Jallgo has been murdered. The whole port is up in arms." Bogbean explained pushing crewbeasts aside so Jack could get a better look.

"Well, isn't this a nice end of the day. I better tell Killy." Turning hard on his heels he returned to the Captain's chamber. Rapping on the door, Jack called in to the ferretmaid. "Killy, you better get out 'ere."

Reappearing in her usual sailor apparel, the maid crossed her paws. Expecting another lecture to follow. "Wha' did I do now?"

"Nothing… The twins just hauled up a fox. Jallgo's dead and everything down that way has gone to hellgates in a pawbasket."

"So does this mean we're not going ashore?" Killicia asked, looking disappointed.

" Sorry, love."

"And do we have to keep the fox?"

"Killy, we're not throwing him back into the sea. Come along, you have to talk with him."Jack lead the way, waiting for her to follow.

"Fine. But if we can't go to port, I want to go to Sampetra." Wooden limb tapped lightly against the deck boards as she strolled along side the searat.

"As ye wish, Cap'n," Jack said, ignoring everything the ferret was saying as he guided her towards the half-drowned Reginald. He had long grown accustomed to her many whims and demands.

The fox was bundled up in a thick ships blanket, shivering most unhappily. His bushy tail had lost all its puff and luster from the sea. Now it lay limp beside him nearly as thin as a rat's tail. His ears were drooped and his waxed whiskers stuck out at odd angles. The silk and ruffled garbs her wore were dripping and askew. Killicia took one look at the extravagant dress of the fox and burst out laughing. "You have got to be kidding me. Is that a fox or one of my Grandma's doilies?"

"Killicia, be nice," Jack warned.

Glaring at the searat, she went closer to Reginald. "So what happened?"

Shivering with fear and cold, the fox tried to recount his tale.

"I was sailing with my cousin, Romlan de'Gorge, to the house of Jallgo to make arrangements for him to wed lady Nicara. Next thing I know the crew tells me both Jallgo and Romlan are dead. Before I know it there are fires ablaze on shore. The town has accused Romlan of murder, and the crew of setting fire to the storehouses. We fled in our ship as fast as we could, but not long into our voyage we began taking on water. Some of the ships followed up and began shooting fired arrows at the ship. I went overboard and clung to a barrel as long as I could. I don't know where the rest of the crew is, although I suspect they have all perished. Those who followed us killed any they could find. It's only by chance I slipped by unnoticed. Please, you must believe me. We haven't done anything against Jallgo or his property." Tears began to form in his eyes. "Please, you mustn't kill me. I will do anything. You must believe me."

Backing away from now hysterical creature, Killy looked to her crew and then the fox. "Umm… I'm not going to kill you, so you can stop now. Jack, can you get this fella a drink or somethin'?"

The searat helped the fox to the galley while Killicia addressed the crew.

"Slight change of plans, b'ys. We're going to have to go north and look for another place to take on supplies. If things have gone wonky with Jallgo's lot, I don't really want to get involved… and I think you all agree. So let's make sail for further up t'Mossflower. The weather is better there anyway." She paused to give one of her cheeky smiles to the crew. "Then we're off to Sampetra."

…..

Nicara sat in her chambers, playing the part of the distressed maiden rather well with Vaniska and Konnal now at her side. Bittail and his crew entered, their weapons stained with blood. "We found the dirty traitors, yer ladyship, and took care of them for you. And I'm pleased to tell you that the fires have been put out already, thanks to the early warning."

"Thank you, Bittail. My father was lucky to have such friends," she said, weeping softly.

The searat bowed low to the murderess. "Many o' the ship captains are gathered outside waiting for ye to make an appearance. Maybe it would help if ye were t'say a few words."

"What a good idea, Bittail. Please tell them to meet me in the entrance way."

"As ye wish, m'Lady." With another bow he and his crew left.

Nicara stood, wiping away her fake tears. "Now for the final announcement."

"Which is what, exactly?" Vaniska asked curiously.

"You'll see." Smiling wickedly, she held her head high and went to the entrance hall. The captains had gathered as instructed and she greeted them on the stairway, holding aloft the forged will of her father.

"Friends of my father, thank you for coming to my aid. My father has remembered you all in his final instructions to me, telling you to take what you like from his stores in exchange for your loyalty to me. He asks that you protect me and that we leave this desolate place. We shall sail as soon as possible for richer lands, lands where you will not live as captains but as lords. Let us not mourn any longer, but look at this as a rebirth. You are corsairs, are you not? We were never meant to be merchants, staying to the land. We shall take the finest prizes this world has to offer us. My father also wished for me to marry, but the husband he choose for me turned out to be his downfall."

She turned to Vaniska, smiling. "But I have chosen my father's hero as my husband. The fox who slew de'Gorge and put out the fires that threatened our storehouses. Vaniska my champion!"

There was polite applause from the crowd. Vaniska stared dumbly at Nicara while Konnal gritted his teeth.

"And so it begins," Nicara murmured under her cold smile.

**End of Book One.**


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